The Mastermind
by Agnes Robinson
Summary: Sequel to His Place in the World. A master thief has been busy on the estate. He has been detected, but his identity remains a mystery. Is it safe to eat your meals, drive your car or sleep at night? Mystery and intrigue are afoot. Told from the point of view of the staff. Based on script points from S3. There was a system glitch with ch 9 and 10. Hope it is fixed now.
1. The Listener

In S3 there is an anomaly in the script if you have seen all of S3 it is in episode 3. Whether it was intentional or a mess up in the story I have no idea. This story is based on S3 events and looks at the story from a more sinister point of view. This isn't a Bates/Anna sweetsy romance. It makes the most sense if you have read In His Own World. Please remember this is meant for entertainment.

Chapter 1 – The Listener

He stepped back into the shadows of the second floor landing of Downton Abbey. It was his favorite vantage point from where he could watch the coming and goings in the great hall as he had done so many times before. Lord Grantham and his friend and relative Lord Flintshire were orchestrating a search for two young boys who were Branson's cousins and some thieves who had made off with a truckloads of hay. It was the middle of winter. Everyone including the police were doing their best to find the boys before they were injured or got hypothermia and died. The boys had disappeared from the farm where they lived with their mother and stepfather. It looked like foul play was involved.

"_Look at the fools," _he thought to himself._ "Making the valiant effort to save those two worthless boys." _He could see Branson and his brother talking with the Detective Inspector. The voices from below drifted up and he could hear snatches of the conversations. The Detective Inspector was such a chump stating in all likelihood the thieves were stealing hay and feed and selling it back to the estate. He hadn't been selling the stolen hay back to the estate. Did they think he was stupid, some small time crook that bumbled around waiting to be caught? The fools had no idea he had been playing this game for years. The estate had been a shoddily run mess when he first arrived. The old estate agent Jarvis hadn't a clue. The missing goods had been detected once. A few snips to a brake line and loosened blots had fixed that little problem before it was ever fully investigated and reported to the police. Now Branson's new chit couldn't keep her nose out of things and figured out things were going missing. No one yet had managed to figure out where the hay and grain was going or where it was being sold. Even if they found the abandoned farm where his hired goons were, there was no way to trace anything back to him or to the feedlot where it was being fenced.

The searchers down below and those waiting for news of the snatched boys were keeping the majority of the staff busy. It was quiet up here. The children were being kept away from the turmoil. No one missed him. He'd kept up the appearance of the faithful servant for years. It was a perfect cover. His Lordship and Branson discussed the affairs of the estate openly in front of him. Before that it had been Jarvis and later Matthew Crawley. Half the time they went off and left the record books lying open. It was just right for him to take a look and find out where the bounty of grain and hay was stored. It had all been too easy and they had played right into his hands.

He heard a sound on the servants' stairs. That would be one of the maids coming up with the day's laundry. They usually did at this time of day. He straightened his tie and moved off from his vantage point as though nothing was amiss. He worked there after all. If anyone had spotted him on the second floor they would assume he was going about his duties and not give it a second thought.

-0-

John Bates went downstairs to the servant's area once the search had been called off for the day. He had spent most of the afternoon minding the tea table in the great hall. With his bad leg he hadn't been able to go out with either the mounted groups or the men searching with automobiles. They needed to stop at every bridge, ditch and culvert to check for any trace of the missing boys. With his bad leg he would have just slowed them down.

"Mrs. Hughes, I've collected the soiled cups in the drawing room, library and great hall and put them on trays," John said. "I'm sorry I'm not able to carry them down."

"The maids will see to it, Mr. Bates and the footmen are back. I'm sorry I had to ask you to help out with serving today, but we were in a bit of a pinch," Mrs. Hughes replied.

"There's no issue, Mrs. Hughes. I'm happy to help out where I can," John replied. He continued on to the servants' hall. He spotted Alfred in the kitchen kneading a batch of bread for the next day and his wife sitting at the table doing some mending. It was easier and more economical for them to take their meals at the Abbey. There was just enough time for a cup of tea and quick bite to eat before he was back upstairs and standing by for Lord Grantham. He entered the room to see a host of faces of men and women he barely recognized. The house was full of company at the moment and with the company were an assortment of valets and ladies maids traveling with their employers.

"You haven't worn yourself out, have you Mr. Bates?" Anna asked with a smile.

"No, I'm well," John replied. "I'll be a bit stiff tonight from standing so long. It's nothing a hot bath won't cure."

"It's a terrible thing isn't it?" Anna said. "I would hate to be the poor boys' mother. She must be beside herself."

"We can only hope they're found soon," Miss O'Brien contributed from across the table. "If they've run off and are playing a prank I'll box their ears myself."

"I doesn't look that way, Miss O'Brien," John said. "It's rather a serious prank for a pair of boys to play."

"They're boys," Miss O'Brien stated. "Spare the rod and spoil the child, my parent's always said. You saw the way the two of them behaved at Mr. Branson's wedding."

"The other Mr. Branson got them in line quick enough," Anna said. "They were children at a wedding. There wasn't much for them to do. It's understandable they were bored."

"They ruined his Lordship's best top hat," Miss O'Brien griped.

"Hardly that," John said. "The lining was loose and I had planned to mend it the following day. There was no harm done."

Miss O'Brien continued to gripe and complain about this and that until it was time to go upstairs for the evening's duties.

"_This is a fine mess,"_ he thought as he sat in the servants' hall and listened to the conversation going on around him. He only had to contribute periodically and no one would suspect a thing. He had told those two idiots working for him to only go to the tenant farms well after the lights were out for the night. The best locations were those well away from any lodgings where they wouldn't be seen. They had gotten greedy and lazy. Those two boys must have stumbled across them while they were in the middle of a job. Fools. Now the boys would have to be disposed of. It wasn't the first time he had turned to murder to cover his tracks. The time before last he had been sloppy. This time he wouldn't make the same mistake. If those two fools hadn't disposed of the boys by the time they contacted him again, he would do it himself and then take care of his hired help as well. A few well placed bullets, a change of shoes that he would dispose of so any footprints couldn't be traced back to him and no one would be the wiser.

He looked over and smiled and nodded at something one of the maids was saying. He couldn't care less what it was. Let them waste away their days working for next to nothing and indulging in gossip about people that barely acknowledged their existence. He was building his fortune. One day he would announce his retirement, head to Ireland or Scotland and spend the rest of his days in luxury and no one would be the wiser. If he had an attractive companion to share his bed, so much the better, if not there would always be another along after a while.

Thomas Barrow surveyed the room full of people at the servant's dinner that night. Thank goodness, Lady Grantham had ordered a buffet dinner, which had been quick and easy. Everyone upstairs was worn out from the goings on today and had retired early. Thomas himself hadn't gone out with the search teams. There were so many people at the Abbey from noon on and a constant stream of comings and goings he had thought it best to stay back and keep an eye on things here. Mr. Bates had manned the tea table for part of the afternoon, which had been helpful, but he wasn't able to carry the trays of sandwiches or kettles of hot water upstairs to the serving area or bring the dishes down. It had put more work on the maids and him. This afternoon and into the evening Thomas had felt more like a traffic conductor than a butler. At one point he had wanted to strangle old Lady Grantham and Lady Flintshire. They had spent the afternoon holed up in the drawing room. They had rung for tea twice and wanted hourly updates on the goings on from the other rooms. _"Couldn't the old bats get off their hind ends and walk the few steps to find out for themselves,"_ he had thought after the third time they rang wanting an update. It had been a long day. He couldn't dismiss the maids yet. There was a mountain of dishes still waiting to be done and the men were planning to continue the search at first light. It would be a night of even less sleep than usual. Hopefully they would turn up something tomorrow so he would not have a repeat performance tomorrow night.

-0-

It was almost noon the next day when the boys turned up at the Abbey no worse for wear. There was so much general excitement over their safe return no one noticed when he slipped away when the boys were taken to the library to tell their full story. He made his way through the crowd casually not wanting to draw attention to himself. As soon as he was out of the great hall he quickly made his way to the morning room and cracked the door to the library so he could listen to their tale. There was a great deal of discussion going on that covered the sound of the door opening. All eyes were on the two boys. No one paid any attention to the dark shadow on the other side of the cracked door.

He had to admit they were a smart pair of lads. What havoc those two could wreak if they put their minds to it in a life of crime. The police were on their way to arrest the two idiots that had snatched the boys. He was safe. He had kept his face in shadow when they met and the money from the feedlot went to an account under an assumed name that he withdrew and deposited into a different bank every two weeks. The funds from the last two weeks were lost to him now. He could never go near the bank where the funds had went again incase he was recognized. His life in crime had begun years ago when he was young. Over the years he had learned some hard lessons. Now he let others do the dirty work. When things went wrong they were the ones with dirt on their hands. Lesser crooks had tried to muscle in but he had always outsmarted them. The old proverb "Good things come to those who wait," couldn't have been truer. If he waited long enough the next opportunity would present itself. This operation was blown. It had been a good run over the last twelve years and made him a pretty penny. Now it was time to sit back and wait. Something new would present itself.

He left the door to the library ajar. He moved back silently and made his way out of the morning room and went about his duties. His cover was intact. There was no hiding out in a dingy pub or an abandoned cottage. He was surrounded by luxury with three square meals a day on the table and a warm bed to sleep in. He was no common crook. He was the Mastermind.


	2. Cleaning House

Chapter 2 – Cleaning House

Tom Branson walked into his brother's garage in Downton Village in late April 1925, his daughter Sybil as with him. Kieran was poking about on a corner of his tool bench when they arrived making a cup of tea.

"Tom, Sybil, what brings you down to visit on a this fair spring day?" Kieran asked. "Do you want a cup?"

"Don't mind if I do," Tom replied.

"Uncle Kieran, may I go visit Aunty Ivy?" Sybil asked.

"Go ahead, Sybil. Ivy should be out in the garden," Kieran replied.

"I'll be right back," Tom said. He walked Sybil the short distance to Kieran and Ivy's cottage then returned once Sybil had been delivered into Ivy's care.

"It's too nice a day to keep my head buried under a hood for all of it," Kieran said as they sat on a rough bench outside the repair shop and sipped the two mugs of tea Kieran had just made.

"I need to ask you a favor," Tom said with a sigh. "It's a tad on the morbid side."

"Sounds ominous."

"It's time to dispose of Matthew Crawley's motor. The one he died driving," Tom said.

"And you want me to take care of it?" Kieran asked.

"If you would be so kind. It's been stored in a remote shed on the estate since the accident. I thought it was better to keep it out of sight out of mind. Lady Mary has just gotten married to Mr. Napier as you know. I talked it over with Lord Grantham. He'd like it disposed of in a manner where no one in the family would ever see it again. I can have it brought over. Scrap it, fix it up and sell it, do whatever you like with it, just don't sell it to anyone locally. It's a 1920 AC. Lady Mary won't be back from her honeymoon tour for the next two months. He'd like it gone before then. We'll pay you for your time and you can keep whatever you make off it."

"I owe him one for all he did when the boys went missing," Kieran said thoughtfully. "Tell Lord Grantham I'll do it no charge. The money I make off the scrap or the sale if it's salvageable will more than pay for my time."

"Thanks, Kieran. I knew I could count on you."

"Matthew Crawley died because he was driving too fast didn't he?" Kieran asked.

"That's the official word," Tom replied. "There was an oncoming lorry. He swerved to miss it, lost control and flipped the car."

"It was out on that T-intersection between here and the Abbey wasn't it?"

"That's it. He was killed instantly."

"Seems rather odd doesn't it?" Kieran said. "For all the hundreds of times you have driven that road wouldn't you think he would have slowed down before he got to the intersection? There is no way in hell you could make that corner at full speed."

"All I know is that I am damn glad you taught me how to drive properly and did the same with Ivy. I had no issues with her driving Sybil about in my car once you said she could drive well enough. There are too many that think they can drive because they can work the controls. There's more to it than that."

"Aye, there is," Kieran said. "How are Rose and the new bairns?"

"Good," Tom replied. "The little ones are a handful. You never know which one will cry next. We've hired a nanny for them. We're still looking for one for Sybil. I don't know if we'll even bother at this point. She's always out with either Rose or myself and James is at the house with his nanny until Lady Mary gets back. Otherwise one of the two nannies can see to bed times and baths when we are busy."

"You live in a house with a over a dozen servants. You can't tell me one of them can't see to a little girl getting dressed or taking her outside to play in the garden." Kieran said.

"My thoughts exactly," Tom replied. "Rose is starting to ride a bit again. She'll be back to showing horses in a month or two. Sybil is down to the stables with her almost every day. It seems pointless to hire someone to take care of her then give them pretty well a half day off every day."

"It's been nice chatting, but I have to get back to it," Kieran said tossing the dregs of his tea onto the ground before he got up. "When are you going to have the car sent over?"

"Is tomorrow too soon?"

"That's fine. I'll shuffle things around a bit and make room for it out back."

"Thanks, Kieran," Tom said as he finished his tea then left to collect Sybil and head back to the Abbey.

-0-

"I saw Mr. Crawley's old car go past with the recovery lorry when I was walking into the village on my day off," John Bates commented to Lord Grantham while Lord Grantham was getting ready for dinner a few nights later.

"Dreadful thing," Robert Crawley replied. "We thought it best to dispose of it while Lady Mary was out of the country. It's been gathering dust all this time. Mr. Branson thought it best to get rid of it now before James gets older and one day stumbles across it."

"How does he plan to dispose of it?" John asked as he turned to get Lord Grantham's tails.

"I'm not sure. I think he's having his brother scrap it. I told him I don't care as long as no one from the family ever sees the blasted thing again," Robert said.

"I quite agree milord. There's no sense rubbing salt in the wound," John said. He helped Robert into his jacket then brushed the dust and lint from Robert's shoulders.

"You know I always thought Matthew was quite a good driver," Robert said thoughtfully. "I suppose I was mistaken. It must have been the excitement of the new baby and he got distracted."

"I would assume so, milord."

"No sense looking to the past. Lady Mary is remarried now to Mr. Napier. He's a good chap. They'll be spending the rest of the year at his father's. They've decided to alternate years between estates."

"That is most likely the wisest choice, milord."

"Yes, well into the fray, Bates," Robert said as he moved towards the door to go down for dinner. He turned back before he exited. "Be a good chap and don't mention you saw the car go past to anyone else. I wouldn't want word to get back to my wife."

"My lips are sealed, milord," John said with a slight bow of his head.

-0-

Thomas Barrow got on his hat and coat for a walk into the village on his day off. He had been spending his time off with his love interest Ronnie until the other man had gotten ideas about working at the big house. Thomas had told him he didn't want him working there, with their relationship right under the noses of his Lordship and the other staff. Ronnie had gotten into a huff and their relationship had ended on a sour note.

It had been a good affair while it lasted. They had set up a love nest in an unoccupied cottage not far from where Ronnie was working. It had been convenient and satisfying with no one being the wiser about the relationship. Without Ronnie about Thomas didn't know quite what to do with his free time. He decided he would head down to the village for a visit with Mr. Carson. After all the years of backstabbing and all the rest, Mr. Carson was one of the most levelheaded men Thomas knew. Besides it was nice to be the one seated and being waited on in grand surroundings for a change.

The bell on the door to the teashop tinkled as Thomas entered. He spotted Mr. Carson delivering a pot of tea with cream and sugar on a tray to one of the tables. It was still sometime before lunch and the shop was quiet. Thomas took a seat well away from the other patrons.

"Mr. Barrow, it's nice to see you," Mr. Carson said. "What can I get you?"

"A cup of tea and a friendly face, Mr. Carson," Thomas replied with a smile.

Mr. Carson returned with the pot of tea on a tray. The table was already laid with cups and saucers. He took a seat across from Thomas as was his custom when the younger man stopped by. From his seat he had a good view of the room and front door should anyone walk in.

"What's new in the village, Mr. Carson?" Thomas asked. There wasn't a thing that went on in the village that got by Mr. Carson. The teashop even surpassed the pub when you wanted to know what was going on.

"Very little," Mr. Carson replied. "People are still talking about when those two boys got nabbed then over powered the crooks on their own. It's just too good a story to let go and of course Lady Mary's wedding."

"It was a lovely wedding," Thomas replied. "It was every bit as grand as her first."

"She'll do well with Mr. Napier," Mr. Carson commented. Thomas couldn't help but notice how much greyer Mr. Carson looked every time he saw him. The retirement was a good thing all around. The workload at the Abbey over the last five months or so would have put the older man in his grave.

"I thought I saw the police parked in front of the repair garage when I walked past," Thomas commented. "They must still be following up on the kidnapping."

"It very well could be," Mr. Carson replied. "They've been by twice so far this week. They stopped by here for their lunch the other day. Not a word in the village so far though as to what's going on."

"That's a bit odd isn't it?" Thomas commented. "For a small place like this."

"It is a bit odd," Mr. Carson replied. "I ran into Mrs. Ivy Branson the other day. She mentioned they are planning to drive up to Liverpool in a few weeks. Her husband is dropping off a car to be sold there. They are planning to go over to Ireland on the ferry and visit his mother for a few days."

"Ivy's a decent girl," Thomas said. "She's done well for herself."

"Quite well. Taking on the raising of those two boys so soon after they were married shows she is made of sterner stuff than one might have thought. What news of Jimmy and Alfred?"

"Alfred is doing well. He'll most likely take over from Mrs. Patmore when she retires in a few years," Thomas said.

"He was always was a good, steady worker."

"Jimmy is restless since Ivy married. He should have snatched the ring when he had the chance."

"As we all should," Mr. Carson replied.

"Sometimes it's easier said than done," Thomas commented. "Miss Sybil is downstairs to visit quite often these days. She's a charming little thing."

"Like her mother before her. How is Lady Rose making out with the twins?"

"Well enough I suppose," Thomas commented. "She was always such a slight thing. These days she's rather well endowed. She's been off shopping a number of times for new clothes. There was almost a riot among the maids over her cast offs."

"She has always had exemplary taste," Mr. Carson said. "I'm not sure what happened in her choice of husband."

"It's all in the eye of the beholder, Mr. Carson. Mr. Branson does have his appeals," Thomas commented with a smirk.

"Humpf," was the only reply.

"The talk of the outdoor staff is they brought Mr. Matthew's car down for Mr. Branson's brother to dispose of. The one he was driving when he died," Thomas commented. "It must be why they're headed to Liverpool."

"I hadn't heard anything about it, but then it is a rather morbid subject. They'll be well rid of that machine." The bell tinkled above the door signaling the start of the noon rush. "It's back to work for me, Mr. Barrow," Mr. Carson said. "It was nice to catch up with you."

"Like wise, Mr. Carson," Thomas said as he finished his tea and headed out the door.


	3. Eavesdropping

Chapter 3 – Eavesdropping

It was the first of May when he spotted footman Jimmy Kent letting a Detective Inspector and police Sergeant in the front door of Downton Abbey and showing them to the library. Something was a foot. They had been spotted at Kieran Branson's garage twice this last while since Matthew Crawley's car had been towed there and now they were here to talk to Grantham. He slipped back into the servants' stairwell and made his way to the second floor. He closed the door quietly to one of the empty bedrooms above the library and locked it. He took his shoes off so as not to make too much noise. He made his way as silently as he could across the room and flipped open the vent to the room below. If he got down on the floor no one would spot him through the windows and he would be able to hear every word as clear as a bell.

"You're sure the car was tampered with?" he could hear Lord Grantham asking.

"Positive," one of the policemen said. "Mr. Branson, that is the other Mr. Branson called us the moment he noticed something was amiss."

"If my brother says something was tampered with, then you can bet it was." It was the unmistakable brogue of Tom Branson's accent.

"But how can he know. The car was damaged in the crash," Lord Grantham questioned.

"Not that damaged, Lord Grantham," one of the policemen replied. "There was a small cut in the of the break cables that hadn't severed and marks where someone had used a wrench to loosen a number of bolts. Whoever it was either was in a hurry or knew little about motor mechanics. They used the wrong size spanner which left scuffs around the bolts. Whoever did this must have been counting on the car being written off with the accident and it being disposed of immediately."

"It's been over three years," Grantham stated seriously. "They could have gotten away with this free and clear if Mr. Branson here hadn't taken steps to dispose of the vehicle."

"Frankly, Lord Grantham, a less experienced mechanic would never have spotted the tampering," one of the policemen commented. "We'll need to see your records of employment for anyone who was here on the estate at the time of the accident."

"Can either of you think of anyone who would have wanted to harm Mr. Crawley?" the other policeman asked.

"No, no one," Tom Branson answered. "Matthew Crawley was well liked and respected. As far as I knew he didn't have any enemies or even anyone who disliked him."

"I can't think of anyone either," Lord Grantham said.

"Do you know how far back the thefts on the estate went?" the first policeman asked.

"My wife only found the inconsistencies last year," Tom Branson commented. "We had assumed it had only been going on for a short time."

"We'll need to see your estate records as well and have them examined. Mr. Crawley may have been involved somehow or been close to finding the perpetrators."

"_Well, well, that's the first intelligent thing I've heard you say,"_ he thought to himself from his vantage point.

"How dare you cast aspersions on Matthew Crawley's good name? There was no reason for him to be involved in the thefts. He owned a controlling portion of the estate and stood to inherit everything," Lord Grantham stated.

"We have to examine every possibility, Lord Grantham," the second policeman said. "Perhaps we could see your records of employment?"

"Lord Grantham, they're only doing their jobs," Tom Branson said. "I have the last three years of estate records here. The others are held at the solicitor's office in London. I will have to have them sent up. My wife could look over the books and report any problems she finds. She is the most familiar with the issue and would be able to spot it immediately. She was the only one who noticed the inconsistencies when everyone else missed them because of her work with show horses."

"That would be satisfactory Mr. Branson. It may also provide us with further leads in the investigation of the thefts."

"The employment records are in the butler's office," Lord Grantham said. "I will ring for someone to take you down. You may speak to him yourself."

He slipped back from the vent after closing it then went to sit on the chair near the door to put his shoes back on. _"So they suspected did they? They still couldn't prove anything and they would never trace the thefts back to him," _he thought. He couldn't believe he had been so careless as to leave traces of his tampering. He had thought it would all go undetected. He had only made small cuts in the brake cables so they wouldn't be noticed immediately. He had done it days before the trip to Scotland when Crawley had been sniffing around too many of the barns they were stealing from. It was only coincidence Matthew Crawley had died on the day his son was born. He had to keep calm. No one had the slightest clue he was behind it all.

He cracked open the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway when the coast was clear. Two of the maids went past without batting an eyelash. _"Yes, remain calm and go about your duties and no one will be the wiser," _he though. He had to stop himself from laughing when he got downstairs to the servants' area.

-0-

"Daisy, I'm surprised to see you here," Thomas Barrow said when he walked in and spotted Daisy sitting in the servants' hall with Mrs. Patmore, Alfred and Mrs. Hughes almost a week after the police visit. Everyone in the family had gone to London except Mrs. Crawley and she was forever going out with Dr. Clarkson or to one of her meetings. There wasn't much to do except clean rooms and polish silver. It was only the first week in May and most of the staff was bored stiff.

"I thought I'd come for a catch up," Daisy said. "I ran into Mrs. Branson in the village. Mrs. Ivy Branson that is and she said her brother-in-law and the family had gone down to London for a week, so I thought it would a good time to come for a visit."

"Never a better time," Mrs. Patmore said. "The entire family packed up on the spur of the moment and took the nannies and children with them. We're sitting here twiddling our thumbs."

"Hardly that, Mrs. Patmore," Mrs. Hughes commented. "There's always cleaning to do."

"I have the same thing," Daisy commented. "This time of year the planting is done, but I'll be run off my feet once the berries and fruit start."

"You're enjoying your life as a tenant farmer then?" Alfred asked.

"Yes, I quite enjoy it. The hours are just as long as they were here but they're my hours. I manage them as I please," Daisy said. "It's nice when I come into the village with Mr. Mason. My time is my own although we have to rush back for milking rather than dinner."

"The talk in the village and around here is Mr. Matthew Crawley's car," Alfred said.

"Alfred, I hardly think that is an appropriate topic of conversation in this house," Mrs. Patmore reproached him.

"Come now Mrs. Hughes, you know everyone is talking. Lord Grantham was trying to keep it all from Lady Grantham and the Dowager Countess but he didn't have much luck. It's probably all over London by now," Thomas said.

"Very well then, but it gives me the willies," Mrs. Hughes replied.

"I haven't heard a thing," Daisy said.

"It seems Mr. Matthew's death wasn't an accident," Mrs. Patmore contributed. "His car was tampered with. The police think it might have something to do with the thefts of hay and feed they found out about in December. That's way the family has gone to London. They are going through the estate records to see if they can find out how far back the thefts go."

"I never would have thought it," Daisy said with her eyes round. "There was a police lorry hauling a car away at the repair shop in the village when I passed through."

"Most likely one and the same," Thomas said. "They were going through the employment records as well, looking for anyone who might have had a grudge against Mr. Matthew."

"Who would have had a grudge against him?" Daisy questioned. "Everyone like him, even Miss O'Brien."

"That's saying something," Mrs. Hughes said with a sigh.

"It must have been someone with something to gain," Alfred said.

"The only one that's gained anything around here is Mr. Branson and he's the one who reported the thefts in the first place and sent the car to be looked at. If he was the culprit he could have sent the car straight to the scrap yard and no one would have been the wiser," Mrs. Patmore said.

"It does no good for us to sit around and speculate," Thomas said. "It's a matter best left to the police."

"Where is Jimmy?" Daisy asked.

"Probably lollygagging about somewhere," Mrs. Hughes said with an exasperated shake of her head.

"I had best go and see what he's about," Thomas said.

"If you can spare me, Mrs. Patmore, perhaps I could walk Daisy back to the village," Alfred commented.

"Oh don't mind me stuck in the kitchen all day on my own," Mrs. Patmore said crossly. She spotted the hopeful look and small smile on Daisy's face. "Oh very well, just be back in time…oh never mind. Take as long as you like. The roast beef is in, all I have to do later is make the Yorkshire puddings."

"I'll be back in time to clean up," Alfred said as he got up and dashed off to get his coat and hat.

"Well, wonders never cease," Mrs. Patmore said with a smile as she went to the door and watched Alfred and Daisy head towards the village together.

-0-

John Bates headed for the downstairs at Lady Rosamund's London home. His wife Anna was along on this trip to act as ladies maid for Lady Rose and help out with the children. It was nice of Lord Grantham to bring Anna along but it was unnecessary. Lady Rose hardly ever needed the services of a ladies maid and the two nannies were seeing to the children well enough. Lady Grantham was paying calls and spending her days waiting for Lady Rose to come back from Mr. Murray's office with the latest updates. Master Jame's Nanny was taking Miss Sybil and Master James out on small excursions around the city. There was really no reason for Anna to be there other than to keep her husband company.

The downstairs at the house was a hive of gossip. The news of the tampered car had reached London and every house was a buzz with it. There wasn't an hour that went by when there wasn't a knock at the back door with a servant from one house or the other in the square stopping by to get the latest news from the cook. John wondered how they ever got anything done with all the running back and forth and tongue wagging they did.

He was usually in Lord Grantham's confidence but not this time. Lady Rose left each morning with Mr. Branson and Lord Grantham to go to Mr. Murray's office. Every evening they returned solemn faced. Whatever was going on wasn't discussed around the dining room table. Every evening the family locked themselves in the drawing room at Lady Rosamund's without any staff in attendance and discussed the day's findings. No one on the staff dared eavesdrop.

"It's ever so odd isn't it," Anna commented to her husband after the fourth full day of the strange goings on. "They look more serious each time they return from the lawyers and they don't say a thing."

"Whatever it is will all be revealed in good time," John said reassuringly and patting his wife on the hand. "What did you find to amuse yourself with today?"

"I went shopping?" Anna said with a smile. "It's almost like a vacation. I can only find enough to keep myself amused for a few hours. Once I take the children's laundry up and the Branson's there isn't much else to do."

"Don't use your energy up. It's rather nice having you come to bed not worn out from a long day," John said running his fingers along Anna's jawline.

"Why Mr. Bates, I never thought you had any complaints," Anna replied flirting with her husband. "I was thinking about going by the rental and checking up on things while we're here."

"Don't bother," John said. "The tenant sees to the repairs. I want you fresh and pretty when I get back to our room at night."

John didn't have long to stay and flirt as the dressing gong sounded in a few minutes. He made his way up to the room off the main bedroom Lord and Lady Grantham were sharing to help Lord Grantham get dressed.

"This entire mess is a hell of a note, Bates," Lord Grantham said as John helped him into his formal wear. "We're back seven years already and still going."

"Not bad news I hope milord," John replied.

"It certainly isn't good, but I've said enough," Robert replied. "Take the rest of the evening off. Take your wife out on me." Robert reached in his pocket book and pulled out a five-pound note.

"I couldn't milord," John said.

"Take it," Robert said. "I like to think someone is having a decent time in London. I'm certainly not."

"Very well, milord. If you insist," John said neatly pocketing the fiver.

"I do insist," Robert said. "I'm glad you're here old friend."

"I'm at your service, milord," John replied.

After ten days of almost the same thing everyday but Sunday the family packed up and headed back to Downton. Lady Rosamund came along. She was never one to pass up intrigue and what ever was going on was loaded with it. Not one of the three ladies maids had gotten a word out of their mistresses. Four if you counted Anna. The family was being tight lipped like John had never seen them. The arrival back to Downton should prove to be an interesting one indeed.


	4. Red Herrings and Other Bait

Chapter 4 – Red Herrings and Other Bait

"I don't know what's going on Mrs. Hughes," Thomas said. He was feeling somewhat panicked. The police had been to the house after the family returned from London and gone through the employment records yet again. They wanted to talk to anyone who worked at the house inside or out who had been there since 1912. The only time he hadn't been at the house was during part of the war. Otherwise he fit the bill perfectly.

"They want to talk to everyone," Mrs. Hughes said. "I don't know anymore than you. I'll have to talk to them myself. I've been here longer than you, longer than anyone now."

"I admit I did some petty pilfering when I was young and foolish," Thomas said. "But those days are long behind me."

"I don't think petty pilfering lends itself to murder," Mrs. Hughes said. "Answer their questions truthfully and you won't have any troubles."

"Mrs. Hughes, what if they ask me about…my personal life?"

"Do you have a personal life, Mr. Barrow? Most of us in service don't. I don't, neither does Mrs. Patmore. After all these years in service I wouldn't think you have one either."

"Thank you Mrs. Hughes. I'll keep that in mind," Thomas Barrow said.

-0-

"_Well, well, well," _he said to himself._ "Grantham is getting careless now that he's back home."_ Lord Grantham had left out a folder with George Murray's office crest on it on the sofa in the library. He was just about to reach for it and have a look when he heard the doorknob turn and the sound of Grantham and Branson on the other side of the door talking about something. By the time the two men entered the library the only trace anyone had been there was a faint click of footsteps in the great hall.

"Do you think our culprit took the bait?" Lord Grantham asked.

"We can only hope," Tom Branson replied. "Make sure you leave it out again in a few mornings. We don't want to make it too obvious."

"Who ever it is, I want to be there when the hangman puts the noose around his neck," Robert Crawley said.

"Patience," Tom reminded him. "He's had a long time to practice his skill. He's slipped up once. We'll catch him."

-0-

"The police questions seemed rather routine if you ask me," Anna said. They were sitting at dinner in the servants' hall. Everyone from the house had been questioned as well as the outdoor staff and a few people like Mr. Carson and Daisy who had been long time employees of the estate.

"I think they're looking for a man," Thomas said with a sour expression.

"What makes you say that Mr. Barrow?" John asked.

"The type of questions they asked. The only women that have worked here that long ago are Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, Anna, Miss O'Brien and Daisy. They were all asked if they had ever seen anything suspicious, who might have a grudge, was anyone flashing a bunch of cash about over the years. There is only a select group of men who have been here off and one over a long period of time. They are myself, Mr. Lynch, you, Mr. Bates, Mr. Carson, Mr. Branson and a few of the other outdoor staff. William Mason is dead. That lets him out and Mr. Branson arrived late in 1913. They are looking for someone who arrived in 1912 or before. They asked us about our bank accounts, past criminal records and whom we associated with in London and what we do on our time off. They are definitely looking for a man."

"I have a criminal record and have been in prison twice," John commented. "It doesn't make me guilty."

"It wouldn't be the first time an innocent man has been convicted as you well know, Mr. Bates," Thomas said. His paranoia over his past indiscretions was getting the better of him.

"They haven't charged anyone yet, Mr. Barrow and there are always ways out of prison," Mr. Bates said.

"Listen to him. He should know," Miss O'Brien said gesturing to Mr. Bates. "He's been in and out twice. I wish you'd stop talking about it you're putting me off my meal. Goodness knows I worked long enough hours for it today."

"Miss O'Brien is correct. Let's agree not to discuss this nasty business over meals," Mrs. Hughes said.

-0-

"_Finally," _he thought. He had seen the folder with Murray's office crest left out twice but it hadn't been left long and there had been no chance to get a look until today. He merged into the shadows in the room then flipped the folder open. There it was in black and white, a list of the thefts going back to 1912. "_It had been a good long run,"_ he thought with a self-satisfied smirk making its way across his face. His eyes narrowed when he looked at the amounts. There was considerably more missing in the thefts than he had ever received payment for. _"The bastards! He had been orchestrating the thefts and the thieves had been stealing from him. Of course there was no honor amongst thieves. It was nothing he wouldn't do himself but it couldn't go unpunished. If he left his henchmen to get away with it the next would think he was an easy mark as well. Collins and McCormick were behind bars now. They had been nabbed when they took the boys, but the others. If he found out it was them short changing him. They would pay and pay dearly."_

-0-

"Milord, Mr. Barrow found this left out in the great hall and asked me to give it to you as I was on my way up," John Bates said handing a blue folder to Robert Crawley. "He thought it might be important."

"Goodness Bates, I wouldn't want that falling into the wrong hands," Robert said. "I must have been distracted and set it down. Thank you for returning it to me."

"Your quite welcome, milord," John said. "Do you think the police will be around again?"

"Who knows how their minds work?" Robert replied. "Mr. Branson, Lady Rose and I have an appointment with them later this afternoon. I have no idea what they want, but I do wish they would hurry up and get this mess resolved one way or the other."

"Dealing with the police is never a pleasant matter in my experience," John said. "The staff are all rather unsettled from the experience."

"Are they? Nothing about this has been pleasant," Robert said with a sigh. "It was hard enough to loose Matthew to an accident, but now to find out it was deliberate."

"Perhaps the person was only trying to scare him and things went further than intended."

"Perhaps. It doesn't change the fact that Matthew is dead and we all have to carry on without him."

"Death is rather final, milord," Bates said.

"Hopefully, we have a few years left in us, old chap," Robert said touching John's arm lightly. "I had best get back down stairs before Branson and Lady Rose take a notion to use the front lawn for summer pasture."

"Very well, milord," John replied.

-0-

"Lord Grantham, Lady Rose, Mr. Branson, please take a seat," the Detective Inspector said as the entered his office at the police detachment in Ripon.

"Why did you want us to come here?" Lord Grantham asked.

"Security is much better here than at your estate, Lord Grantham" the Detective Inspector said. "If the perpetrator is a member of your staff, there is less likelihood of being overheard here or any information leaking back to the culprit."

"Yes, I see," Lord Grantham replied. "I just hate to think someone I have trusted to come into my home and care for my family could be behind this."

"Who ever this person is would have to have your trust and be able to move around your house and grounds without suspicion, Lord Grantham," the Detective Inspector said. "The thefts themselves were conducted by low level criminals. So far we have traced the hay and feed to a feedlot where it was sold. The lot paid for the goods to an account that had periodic cash withdrawals. It was a busy bank and none of the tellers have a clear memory of the man who made the withdrawals."

"So you're looking for a man then," Tom Branson asked.

"Yes, we believe so," the Detective Inspector said. "One who can appear in public well dressed and not call attention to himself. We know the car tampering occurred sometime during the summer, Lord Grantham, most likely before your trip to Scotland."

"Why would you say that?" Robert asked.

"The level of tampering would not have allowed the car to be driven more than once or twice. The car was driven to the station by one of the staff on the estate. He reported no problems at that time. Mr. Crawley drove to the hospital and as you know he did not make it home."

"I know the car was tampered with, but I don't know how they managed to get access," Tom stated. "There were three chauffeurs at the time. One of them would have surely noticed a stranger or someone out of place around the garage."

"That is what leads us to believe it was someone familiar to staff members who is trusted around the estate. They could easily make an excuse of being at the garage to retrieve something from one of the cars or be a regular visitor to that part of the estate who would go unnoticed," the detective inspector stated.

"Do you believe the two crimes are connected?" Rose asked.

"Yes, I'm afraid we do," the detective inspector replied. "We have only found two people with motives to harm Mr. Crawley. The first would be Mr. Jarvis, the estate agent Mr. Crawley let go. He moved to a remote part of Wales to live with his daughter and her husband over a year before Mr. Crawley's death and has a concrete alibi for that entire summer. The second person with motive would be the thief if Mr. Crawley was getting close to the same realization you had Lady Rose."

"So you're saying you suspect the head theif is someone at the house we trust," Lord Grantham said.

"At this point it is still speculation but we believe so," the detective inspector said. "Did you put out the false folder as we requested?"

"Yes, we've brought a copy of the false document. You were sent a copy of the original report directly from Murray's office," Lord Grantham said. "I left it out in conspicuous locations three times. It was returned to me by Bates, the third time out. He claimed he had received it from Barrow, who asked him to bring it upstairs to return it to my possession."

"Did you see Mr. Barrow with the folder in his hand for yourself?" the Detective Inspector asked.

"No, I did not," Lord Grantham said. "You don't think it's Bates, do you? I trust the man with my life."

"At this point Lord Grantham, everyone is still a suspect. Hopefully, the red herring has been taken and pushes the culprit to make a careless move. I advise you to continue to keep all the estate records away from prying eyes at this point. You might casually mention we have narrowed down the list of suspects in front of some of your staff. It may agitate the culprit enough to loose his nerve, although I highly doubt so."

"Why would you say that, Detective Inspector?" Rose asked. She had taken her husband's hand throughout the meeting. The idea of their children sharing a home with a crook was unsettling to say the least.

"Who ever this is, they are not prone to rash decisions. They have been slowly and methodically robbing the estate for twelve and a half years. I would suspect they have a long record of criminal history and have gotten away with their crimes repeatedly over the years. That type of criminal mind is not one that snatches things for the quick money. They are in it for the long haul with a definite goal in mind. The motive could be any number of things including revenge, greed or they may just enjoy the cat and mouse game of not being caught."

"We will let slip the information you have narrowed the list of suspects in the next few days," Lord Grantham said. "Please let us know as soon as you turn up anything."

"Of course Lord Grantham. I have every confidence the culprit will be caught and brought to justice," the detective inspector said.

"I'm glad you do," Lord Grantham said as he stood to leave.


	5. Information - Misinformation

Chapter 5 – Information - Misinformation

"_Reassure the woman sitting next to you. Pat her hand. Convince everyone it couldn't possibly be you,"_ he thought while he was sitting through dinner in the servants' hall. _"Looking at them all chewing over every morsel of information they are fed like a bunch of junior sleuths. A few suggestions to redirect the truth and pretty soon they think it's their idea and repeat it verbatim."_

"The police think the culprit who tampered with Mr. Crawley's car is a man and that he works here in the house or on the estate," Jimmy was telling everyone for the third time. "They're narrowing the suspects but no one specific yet."

"My goodness it is unsettling," Mrs. Hughes said. "To think someone we know and trust could have set out to harm Mr. Matthew. It's incomprehensible."

"Not that unconceivable surely," Anna Bates said. "They had to be able to go in and out of the garage unnoticed. A stranger hanging around the outbuildings would have been spotted right away."

"I for one don't know the first thing about motor cars," Thomas Barrow said. "I can't even drive a horse and buggy. Never could."

"You didn't learn in the army, Mr. Barrow?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"No, I was a medic not a driver. It wasn't my job," Thomas replied.

"I don't know anything about cars either," John Bates said. "With my leg I could never work the controls or get down to see to the tires. I never knew the chauffeurs at that time all that well either except the one we have now other than to say good-morning and good-afternoon." He nodded to the older man down the table.

"It seems the police will have a bit of a quandary," Jimmy said. "How would you know what to loosen or what to cut if you didn't know anything about motor cars? It must be someone from the outside staff."

"Anything is possible," Mrs. Hughes replied.

"Could you imagine Mr. Carson trying to get under a motor car to tamper with it," Anna said with a slight laugh. There was a chorus of chuckles around the table.

"I for one feel like we're living in a penny dreadful," Miss O'Brien commented sourly. "It couldn't have possibly been anyone here. We've known each other for years."

"You never know what a man has hidden," Alfred commented from down the table.

"We all know where you've been spending your free days even though you won't say," Miss O'Brien shot back. "Should I write and tell your mother about your new interest in farming?"

"I'm only saying anyone here could have a past and no one would be the wiser," Alfred said.

"_Bright boy. Too bad no one ever takes you seriously. Chit, chat back and forth, tick tock goes the clock. Take all the time you want people. The more you conjecture and form opinions the more the truth is lost. Of course I know how a motorcar works. Any fool could figure it out. The chauffeur sees me almost everyday retrieving some left behind item or walking in the general area on my afternoon breaks. They were so used to my presence I could have been a lantern hanging on the wall or another coach light for all they cared."_

-0-

"I just hope the police get it right this time around," Anna said to her husband as she slid into bed beside him that night.

"There's nothing to worry about," John reassured her. "Everything in our bank accounts can be traced. A valet and a maid as a pair of big time criminals," John chuckled. "Could you think of anything more ridiculous? What am I going to do, rig Lord Grantham's sock garters so they explode?"

"And me? What am I to do? Dust the loot out of the barns," Anna said with an answering grin.

"The crooks will be caught and it will all blow over," John said reassuringly.

"I do feel bad for Lady Mary. How will she take the news Mr. Matthew was murdered?" Anna said sobering. "It is just too awful."

"She has Mr. Napier with her now. It won't change what happened," John replied.

"No, but it will reopen old wounds and poor Master James. When he grows up he'll know his father's life was taken."

"He'll know Mr. Napier as his father," John said reassuringly. "He's a decent man. He'll have a good roll model."

"You're right of course," Anna said.

John stroked her hair and placed a kiss on her forehead. Anna snuggled close and put her head on his shoulder. She didn't know what she would do if John was ever taken away from her again. It had been so hard to keep the faith when he was in prison. Every lead had seemed like a dead end and John had given up. He had encouraged her to make a life for herself without him. She hadn't given up and somehow she had found an answer without even realizing it. If John hadn't found the loophole in Mrs. Barlett's story, he would still be sitting in prison. When Anna thought of Vera, John's first wife all she felt was anger. The woman had been so greedy and vindictive. Even in death she had managed to make their lives miserable. How the woman had gotten a hold of arsenic and why she had baked it into the crust of a pie was still a mystery but one Anna wasn't about to trouble herself to figure out.

That night Anna had a bad dream. She was lost in rows and rows of laundry that had been hung out to dry. Every corner she turned she ran into Vera, Mrs. Barlett or one of the policemen who had questioned her recently. The more she tried to run away the more lost she got in the sheets. The sheets were tangling around her whispering things she didn't want to hear but couldn't make sense of. She woke with a start to the dark room. She reached out to make sure John was still there before she lay back down. There was something odd in the dream that she couldn't remember. She tried to block it out by thinking of her last trip to London and the wonderful time she had when John took her out to the cinema. She'd had enough of bad dreams. What she wanted now were good memories. She drifted back to sleep thinking of the cinema and popcorn and the lights of the London night sky.

-0-

Two weeks went by and there was no word from the police. Chatter about the crimes had dropped to a dull roar around the house. The Crawley's announced they would be heading to London in mid-July. Tom Branson, Lady Rose and the children would be staying put as usual and Lady Mary was expected back a few days before the family was scheduled to leave.

"Do you fancy a week at the shore this year or would you rather stay at the cottage?" John asked his wife on their free day.

"I don't know," Anna said. "I've been having so many nightmares since the police were snooping around, it might be good for me to get away for a few days and blow the cobwebs out. Can we afford a trip to the shore?"

John shrugged noncommittally. "We have the funds from the rental," he said. "We can afford it."

"But we are saving those for the day we can leave service," Anna said.

"Just a little. All that time I was away from you made me realize we need to make memories today, not wait for someday."

"Alright," Anna said. "The sea shore it is. We can talk to Mr. Barrow and Mrs. Hughes about tomorrow."

"I think I'll bake a meat pie for out tea," John said. "Maybe an almond tart for desert."

"That sounds lovely," Anna replied.

-0-

"I was wondering if you mind stopping by and checking on the cottage while we're over to Dublin week after this?" Kieran asked Tom after the church. It was early July and the weather was clear and not raining this year.

"I'm ever so looking forward to meeting your mother," Kieran's wife Ivy said.

"She'll be happy to meet you as well, Ivy. I'll stop by your cottage when I'm in the village," Tom replied. "I'm through almost everyday. Are you taking the boys?" He glanced over to where Shaun and Timothy were talking to their mother.

"Kathy hasn't made up her mind yet. They might go out to the farm for the summer," Kieran replied. "We were going to drive up to Liverpool, go over to Dublin for a few days and take the train back. The business with the AC changed all that."

"Make out a bill for your time and I'll write you a check from the estate accounts," Tom said.

"I'll do that. Any word from the coppers?"

"Nothing I can discuss in public," Tom replied. "I'm not looking forward to when Lord Grantham tells his eldest her husband's death was the result of foul play."

"Poor Lady Mary," Ivy said. "She's finally got her life back together and now this."

Rose came to join them with Sybil by the hand. The intrigue at the estate was off limits when the younger children were about.

"You're looking recovered these days," Kieran said to Rose once they had exchanged greetings. "Where are the two little ones?"

"Home with their Nanny," Rose replied. "They are still too little for church."

"We best be getting back home as well," Tom said. "I'll stop by the garage before you go and catch you up."

"I'll see you then," Kieran replied.

Two days later Tom stopped by mid-afternoon. Kieran was alone at the garage.

"It's a hell of a note, Kieran," Tom said with a sigh. "They've got the suspect list down to three men. All long-term employees of the estate but nothing can be proved."

Kieran let out a long whistle. "Grantham will be chasing his tail over that. So they didn't suspect you?"

"No. I'm the one that had you look at the car and I'm an experienced mechanic. I wouldn't have been so sloppy. Besides, the thefts started before I arrived. I may have gained the most by Matthew's death, but I had no idea I would. Murray can testify to that so I'm off the list."

"That's a good thing," Kieran replied. "Not like I'd ever think you would be involved in something along those lines."

"The police have three suspects but in my mind I have it down to two. Lord Grantham doesn't want to hear anything about it. If it turns out to be someone he really trusted it might break his heart."

"You think he actually has one?"

"Under all that pomp and bluster, he is a good man," Tom replied.

"So what are you going to do?" Kieran asked.

"Watch the pair of them like a hawk," Tom said. "He made one mistake, he's bound to have made more."

"What if it turns out to be someone completely different?"

"I'll breath the first sigh of relief," Tom replied. "Don't mention a word of this?"

"You know I can keep my mouth shut," Kieran said.

-0-

The dream had been plaguing Anna for a week now. Almost every night she had the same dream of being lost in the sheets hanging on the clothesline. Vera and her friend Mrs. Bartlett were there. The sheets grabbed at her arms and legs. There was a voice whispering over and over the same thing, but Anna couldn't make it out.

She was working as assistant housekeeper now in anticipation of the day Mrs. Hughes retired although she was officially Lady Rose's ladies maid. A ladies maid to a woman who got herself up, dressed and came down to breakfast, went out to work until luncheon and then worked on the accounts or went out on the estate with her husband most afternoons gave Anna little work in that department. When Lady Rose wasn't busy with her work she was usually with the children. Other than seeing to the Branson's laundry and making sure their room was done up the rest of Anna's time was spent learning the ordering and stores and overseeing the other maids.

This afternoon John had volunteered to walk into the village with the mail. It was a nice day and he said he wanted to get some fresh air. Anna was busy laying the cups on a tray for the ladies afternoon tea. Having everything set up made it much easier to just add the water to the pot and be ready to carry up the tray.

"Do you know where Mr. Bates is?" Miss O'Brien asked. "I wanted to ask him which uniform Lord Grantham will be wearing to the dinner Friday night, so I can check her ladyships jewels are the correct ones."

"He'll be coming back for his tea," Anna replied. She dropped the cup and saucer she was holding on to the tray almost breaking it. She steadied it with shaking hands. She knew what the sheets had been saying only it wasn't the sheets it was Mrs. Bartlett's voice.

"Are you alright, Anna?" Miss O'Brien asked. "You look as if someone just walked across your grave."

"Oh, yes, I'll be fine. I haven't been sleeping well. I suppose that's it," Anna replied nervously. She knew. She knew without a doubt. Now what was she going to do?


	6. Notes and Conversations

So this chapter is about something in the actual script that bugged the devil out of me. I was watching the show on and the first thing out of my mouth when Bates prison release came up was, "But that wasn't what the witness said." Just got the DVD of the season rewatched and sure enough. Hmmm we still have the murder of Matthew Crawley and the thefts. More strange happenings to come! TY all for reading along.

Chapter 6 – Notes and Conversations

"Aren't you coming to bed?" John asked Anna the next evening. She had been quiet and withdrawn the evening before and all day.

"No, I want to sort out some old papers in this drawer," Anna said. "You know I haven't been sleeping well. I thought I might go and see Dr. Clarkson tomorrow."

"Perhaps it will be good news," John said smiling at her.

"Perhaps or it could be the unsolved crime at the house is starting to wear me down," Anna replied.

"Don't stay up too long," John said coming over to give her a peck on the cheek. "Work tomorrow."

"Don't I know it," Anna replied.

Once John had gone upstairs and she heard the bed creak as he lay down, Anna pushed the papers she had been going through to the side and pulled a notebook from the back of the drawer. When she had been working to free John from prison she had kept notes of every name and address she had written to and every conversation. She had kept the notebook just incase anything every resurfaced in the future so they could refute it. She took the notebook over to the small kitchen table where there was good light.

She quickly flipped towards the end of the notebook. There were copies of some letters clipped in the back of the book. There, two pages from the last entry was what she was looking for.

_Visit with Mrs. Audrey Barlett, London_

_The address and time was listed._

_Mrs. Bartlett said Vera was upset because her husband had run off with another woman. _

_Mrs. Bartlett was walking by. The door was open. Vera was scrubbing her hands very hard. Pastry was stuck in her nails. Vera was frightened and jumpy. He was coming back later for his tea. _

Anna paused. John hadn't been on the train when Vera was baking the pie. He had been in London at the house. He had gone out to do an errand and was returning for his tea! He was there when she ate the pie! The rest of the entry read as Anna remembered it.

_Vera went to post a letter. It was raining and the lights made a halo around her head._

Her memory yesterday had been correct. Mrs. Bartlett had said John was coming back for his tea. Anna sat back in shock. Her notes had confirmed her memory. She quickly shut the notebook and cast a furtive glance towards the stairwell. She took the notebook and shoved it to the back of the drawer then took all the other papers that had been in the drawer and pushed them back in.

She put out the lights and climbed the stairs to their bedroom. Her mind was reeling. Had John killed Vera? Had he been released on a lie? A lie that she had help perpetuate. Anna felt as though she were going to be ill.

"Did you finish with your papers?" John mumbled half asleep.

"No," Anna said. "I'll leave them for another day." She rolled on her side facing away from John and pulled up the covers. She didn't know where to turn or whom she could talk to. Who would believe her? She closed her eyes and willed her breathing to slow so he would think she was asleep. Tomorrow, tomorrow she would make her excuses and go see Dr. Clarkson and make sure she wasn't next in line to suffer Vera's fate.

-0-

"How are we for staff next week, Mr. Barrow?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"The Bates are off for their annual week. I'll have to see to his Lordship myself," Thomas replied. "It will leave you short one maid but only for a short time."

"It's nothing we can't work around," Mrs. Hughes replied. "Anna is looking tired these days. A rest will do her good."

"We're all feeling tired. A rest at the sea shore would be nice," Thomas said.

"Aye, it would," Mrs. Hughes replied. "I thought we would rotate the staff holidays while the Crawleys are away."

"Any idea what you'll do with your time off, Mrs. Hughes?"

"I thought I might go and visit my sister," Mrs. Hughes said. "It still seems strange to have an entire week to myself after all these years."

"I know the feeling," Thomas replied.

"What about you Mr. Barrow?"

"I'll take my week when I return from London with the family. I can't afford much. I have a cousin just outside of London. I'll most likey go and see him for a few days. He has a motor car, maybe I'll finally learn how to drive one," Thomas joked.

"It seems odd you never drove even a trap or a cart when you were a boy," Mrs. Hughes commented.

"I don't get on well with horses. They're forever trying to bite me. I don't know what it is. I tried to drive once. The nag wouldn't budge so I gave up."

"Perhaps you'll have better luck with a motor car," Mrs. Hughes commented.

"Perhaps but I have my doubts," Thomas replied with a small grin. "They look to be as cantankerous as horses."

"Well, good luck with it," Mrs. Hughes replied. "I was going to ask Anna to stay here rather than go to London with her husband. I could use her here."

"That would make the most sense," Thomas replied. "We try to be accommodating but we can't always be."

"Yes, I agree and she can always have an extra day here and there if she wants to go to London overnight," Mrs. Hughes said.

"Lady Mary will be back next week. Then it's off to London."

"A return none of us are looking forward to," Mrs. Hughes said shaking her head sadly.

-0-

"What would make you think you have arsenic poisoning Mrs. Bates?" Dr. Clarkson asked Anna during her visit to his office.

"I just wondered Doctor. I've been feeling so poorly this last while. I read somewhere arsenic was used in a number of products before it was realized it was fatal," Anna said nervously.

"I highly doubt you have been exposed to arsenic in a large enough dose for it to do any damage," Dr. Clarkson replied. "You're suffering from insomnia. One of the major symptoms of arsenic poisoning is drowsiness. The others are headaches, confusion and diarrhea. In severe cases with long term exposure night blindness can also occur. It takes quite a few doses of arsenic administered over a long period of time to become fatal. You would expect to see the symptoms I described in say perhaps a mining town where ground water has been contaminated and arsenic has made it into the wells."

"I don't have any of those symptoms doctor. I'm just having a difficult time sleeping," Anna said.

"It's understandable with the upheaval of a police investigation after the difficult time you had clearing your husband's name," Dr. Clarkson replied. "I'll give you a sleeping draught for a week. You said you're going on vacation soon?"

"Yes to the shore for a few days."

"A change is as good as a rest in this case," Dr. Clarkson said while writing his notes. "Go on vacation, try to get some rest and not think about anything back here at Downton for a few days. It will do you a world of good."

"Thank you, doctor," Anna said.

She made her way out of Dr. Clarkson's office to the village pharmacy to have her chit filled, then headed back to the Abbey. She had settled down a bit since last night. John's presence didn't mean he had killed Vera. If he had come back for his tea why hadn't he eaten any of the pie and gotten sick? He had arrived back to the Abbey about nine-thirty on the night in question. That meant he would have caught the seven o'clock from London. That was more than enough time for him to have had tea with Vera. His story didn't quite add up. There were two hours missing when she really thought about it. She had been so sure he was innocent. The man she knew could never do such a thing. What was it Alfred had said? You never knew what a man keeps hidden. Maybe she should stop all this and ask John about it. There could be a reasonable explanation after all.

Anna had just left the village when she heard the distinctive noise of Mr. Branson's car coming up behind her. The shining burgundy hood of his car pulled up beside her and stopped.

"Can I offer you a lift, Anna?" Tom Branson said.

Anna looked at the lane ahead of her and the gathering rain clouds. She smiled and nodded before she got into the passenger seat.

"Thank you, very much, Mr. Branson. I was hoping to get back before it rains," Anna said.

"It's no inconvenience. I was just down to the village to check on my brother's cottage. He's away for the week. How are you finding working with Mrs. Hughes these days?"

"It's interesting. There is more to the housekeeper's job than I had realized," Anna said. "I'm very grateful you kept me on now that Lady Mary has married and will be living away."

"They'll be in London and Viscount Branksome's estate most of the time over the winter. I expect we'll see Lady Mary for the odd weekend here and there. It may be the best thing for her once she learns the real circumstances of her late husband's death."

"Poor Lady Mary, all the grief and now this."

There was a small pause while Tom slowed down and maneuvered the car through the turn towards the main house.

"Anna, I know you've always been close with Lady Mary. If you ever need anyone to talk to I hope you know you can count on me," Tom said seriously. "Lord Grantham doesn't always want to hear things even if they are the truth. I may be the boss now, but I still have your best interests at heart. It's my job to take care of this estate and everyone on it."

"Thank you, Mr. Branson. I'll keep that in mind," Anna replied with a small frown.

Tom didn't say anything more. He just gave her a slight nod and half smile. He pulled up near the back of the house to drop her off.

"Thank you for the ride, Sir," Anna said.

"I'm glad we had this time to chat," Tom replied. "What were you doing in the village anyway?"

"Oh, I haven't been sleeping well. I went to get something to take care of it," Anna replied.

"Take care of yourself, Anna," he said.

"Thank you, Sir. I will," Anna said before she turned away from the car. _"What an odd conversation,"_ she thought. _"Then Mr. Branson often has odd ideas. You never knew quite what the man is up to next."_

-0-

"Are you looking forward to our trip to the shore?" John Bates asked his wife while she was packing a few things into her case. They would be gone the week before Lady Mary's return.

"Yes, I suppose. It will be nice to get away from the Abbey and all the drama even if it is just a few days," Anna said. It had been three days since her trip to the doctor and her odd conversation with Mr. Branson. She hadn't known quite how to ask John about the inconsistencies in his story surrounding Vera's death. "John, I want to ask you something," Anna said slowly.

"Ask away," John said. He was busy putting socks and drawers into his case.

"Where were you really the evening Vera was poisoned? Mrs. Bartlett said you were coming back for your tea," Anna said quietly. John's back went stiff at her words.

"What's brought this on after all this time?" he asked. He still hadn't turned around.

"All the intrigue around the estate I guess," Anna said with a slight shrug. She took a seat on the side of the bed and turned towards him. "I still don't think you did it and I'm glad you're out of prison, but you weren't on the train. I clearly remember Mrs. Bartlett saying Vera told her you were coming back for your tea when she was scrubbing the pastry off her hands. Then she went to mail a letter. You didn't get back till after nine, which means you were on the seven not the five."

John turned to look at her. There was a flash of something cold and dangerous in his eyes before his expression softened.

"The truth is," he said coming to sit beside Anna on the bed. "I did go back. I had gone to the bank to check on the funds. Vera had taken almost everything. I went to close the account. She was a greedy woman. I returned with the five pounds that were left in the account. She thought there should have been more. We fought and she hit me on the cheek with a piece of crockery. I left and went to a pub near the train station. I almost took a drink. You know I have problems with alcohol. I stared at the glass for over an hour before I left without touching it. I took the next train back."

"Why didn't you tell the police you had been at a pub? Why make everyone think you had taken the train?"

"No one wanted to listen to the truth when I had told it. I was distraught. I couldn't remember which pub I had went to. There are all kinds in the area around the station. It would be like searching for a needle in the haystack," John said taking her hand.

"The pie must have been intended for you," Anna said.

"I'm lucky I never had a chance to take a bite," John replied.

"She must have put an awful lot of arsenic in that crust for it to have killed her," Anna commented.

"What makes you say that?"

"I found out people get sick from arsenic poisoning all the time. Sometimes it gets into the water supply. It causes all sorts of problems, but it's not fatal in small doses."

"She was a vindictive woman," John said as he had many times before. "Let's not think about her. Are you feeling better about things?" He slid his arm around Anna.

She smiled and nodded. "I love you Mr. Bates," she said. "I knew you would have an explanation."

"For you, always," he said smiling at her before he slipped the buttons on her housedress open.


	7. Old Habits

The reference at the very end is from episode 8 S3 for those who haven't seen the entire show. Thanks for all the kind comments so far. I had a bit of writers block this last couple days towards the end of the story. When I took journalism they said the best way to overcome it is to just write even if you write junk. Hopefully something good will finally come out. Still have quite a few chapters done before you get to that part.

Chapter 7 – Old Habits

"My goodness, you all look so serious," Mary said. She was smiling and happy as she entered the library. It was the end of July and she and Evelyn had just returned from their honeymoon tour of Switzerland.

"Mary dear," her mother said. "It's so good to have you back and looking well."

"We had a lovely time, but you haven't said what's wrong," Mary replied starting to panic. Evelyn was beside her looking puzzled at the worried expression on the face's in the room. Everyone including Lady Rosamund was there. Isobel Crawley was biting her lips and the Dowager Countess looked older than ever. "It isn't James is it?"

"No, James is happy and healthy. He's been busy playing with Sybil and riding with Rose and your father," Cora replied.

"I've arranged for tea in the garden," Robert said. "We want to tell you the news somewhere where we won't be disturbed or overheard."

"It sounds like a great mystery," Evelyn commented.

"Too much so," Robert said with a sigh.

Everyone made his or her way outdoors to an area that had been set up for tea. Robert signaled for the footmen to leave them once the tea tray and sandwiches had been brought.

"This is going to be difficult for you to hear," Robert began. "We had planned to dispose of Matthew's car while you were gone. It's been in a shed on the estate all this time. I couldn't bear to deal with it before now. I had thought a new start would be best with a clean slate."

"I see," Mary said quietly. She reached for Evelyn's hand.

"What your father is trying to say," Tom took over when Robert had difficulty continuing, "is I made arrangements to dispose of the car with my brother. He found signs of tampering and contacted the police. Matthew's accident," he had to stop and take a breath, "was not an accident. The brake cables were cut. The police are viewing it as a homicide."

"Dear God," Mary said. Evelyn put his arm around her and was held her close. Isobel Crawley was dabbing her eyes with her hanky as were most of the other ladies present.

"It's a terrible thing, my dear," Violet said sadly. "It only gets worse."

"How much worse can it be?" Evelyn questioned.

"The police think the crime is linked to the robbery that was uncovered in December. It turns out the thefts have been going on over a number of years," Robert said. His hands were shaking as he struggled to continue. "They also think it was an inside job, planned and executed by someone here on the estate."

"Who?" Mary said jumping to her feet. "My son!"

"Mary," Cora said crossing to her side and coaxing her to sit back down. "James is safe. Only your father and Tom know who the suspects are. We don't discuss anything inside the house or near the servants incase something is leaked back to whoever it is."

"We can't point the finger at an innocent man," Tom said seriously. "There is no proof as of yet. We'll bide our time. He's made mistakes. He'll make more and then he'll be caught and prosecuted. It could turn out in the end to be someone completely different."

"Who would have wanted to harm Matthew?" Mary said through her tears. Evelyn was trying the best to comfort her and Cora had a hold of her hand. "Everyone loved him."

"Everyone except the thief who was behind the thefts he may have been about to uncover," Tom said. "It may have been very lucky for the rest of us, Rose found the inconsistencies in the books when the family and most of the servants were away or who knows what else may have happened."

"I don't want to stay. I want to take my son and go," Mary said starting to panic.

"There is no reason to think your son or anyone else would be harmed," Robert comforted her. "The thief knows we're on to him. It's heart breaking to think someone you have known for years and trusted could be behind something like this. The day the person is convicted and hung I want to be personally present at the execution."

"Oh, Papa," Mary said dashing into her father's arms.

"There, there the worst is over," Robert said. "It's horrible and shocking but we're on to him. He will be caught."

"The children have no idea anything is going on, Mary," Rose said.

"We can only hope my son's murderer with be brought to justice," Isobel commented.

"Who are the suspects? I'll wring the truth out of them with my bare hands," Mary said tearfully.

"That won't do any good," her father said. "If I thought it would, I would do it myself."

"We all would," Violet said. "Try not to let your mind play tricks on you. It seems that is what this villain has been playing on all this time."

"I'll take you out later and fill you in on the details," Tom said quietly to Evelyn later once the children had been brought down and Mary had a chance to collect herself.

"You and Robert have a good idea of who the culprit is then?" Evelyn asked in hushed tone.

Tom gave a small almost imperceptible nod.

"It's between two men. Lord Grantham is having trouble accepting it. You'll be safe enough in my car. I've been checking it over every other day to make sure nothing is amiss."

"You're that sure the person is here?"

Tom only gave him a level look in return. "I'm going to take Evelyn down and show him the new harvester that just arrived," he said in a louder voice to the group. "He might find something like it useful on his father's estate."

"Don't be too long," Mary said looking up quickly with a worried expression. James was sitting on her knee.

"All is well, my dear," Evelyn said leaning over to kiss Mary's cheek. "I promise I won't be too long."

When they got to the garage Tom took a quick look under his car before he got in.

"I may be paranoid, but it doesn't hurt to check," Tom said.

"After what you've told us, I can't say I would be otherwise," Evelyn replied.

-0-

"_They make things just too easy," _he thought as he slipped in the servant's entrance at an exclusive men's club in the center of London. There were so many gentlemen with their valets coming and going no one paid the slightest attention. It was well after midnight on a Saturday. The gentlemen would be tucked in their beds after a night of drinking and cigars. Drinking and cigars that would mean they were out cold or so sound asleep they would never hear or notice the man in their rooms removing a five pound note here or a ten pound note there from their gold money clips. He had learned long ago when he had first started small jobs with his accomplice small thefts usually went unnoticed. A five or ten missing from someone who usually carried a hundred or more pounds was an insignificant amount.

He and his female accomplice had posed as a well off couple traveling trough small towns when he was younger. At first they had not been as discerning in their thefts and taken watches and valuables that had to be moved through a fence. Every time the thefts had been discovered when they were in the vicinity the police had looked for vagrants or seasonal workers passing through. Not a person glanced at the people staying in the hotel and paying for their room and meals in cash. After a few close calls with the fence of having to strong arm the money from him or when the fence hadn't wanted to pay a decent price, he'd smartened up. His accomplice had wanted to continue as they had been, but he had come to a realization. Take smaller amounts from more people. In the long run you wound up with more and smaller thefts usually went unnoticed. When they had finally started to draw unwelcome attention it had been time to move on to a new racket. His accomplice had continued with petty theft. She just couldn't see the big picture. His was a game of waiting for the right opportunity, gaining people's trust then slipping the money and goods out from under their noses. Don't go for the big item that would be traced. Take the every day, something everyone has in varying amounts and no one would be the wiser.

He finished his rounds of the rooms at the men's club. He easily had a hundred pounds or more in fewer than fifteen minutes. He headed back to the servants' stair and down through the kitchens. He was on the street and walking along whistling as though nothing were amiss. A policeman passed him walking his beat and he tipped his hat. He had a self-satisfied smile on his face when he made it back to the servants' lodgings at Crawley House, replaced the key to the back door on its hook, got undressed and slipped between the sheets. _"A profitable night and no one would be the wiser."_

-0-

"Mr. Branson called this morning milord, while you were out," Thomas Barrow informed Lord Grantham during the second week in August. "The police have called. There was a fire night before last at the stockyard where the stolen feed and hay was traced to. They said it was arson. The story should be in the evening papers."

"Thank you, Barrow," Lord Grantham replied. "It is a rather nasty business."

"If you beg my pardon, milord. It does seem an odd thing to happen, although it is none of my business," Thomas said.

"It is odd, although not unheard of," Lord Grantham said. "Who knows how the criminal mind works. It may have absolutely nothing to do with the other troubles."

"Let's hope so milord," Thomas said.

This season in London was different for Thomas. He usually spent his evenings free when he was there at a club for men of his persuasion where he could meet other men for a romantic interlude or two. Not this trip. With the police sniffing around and all that had gone on around the estate, he was playing it straight and narrow. His days off would be spent either at his cousin's or going somewhere quiet on his own. He'd even made a trip to the zoo on his last day free. He had made eye contact with another man and chosen to ignore it. Things were just too many eyes at the moment. It was against the law to engage in sex with another man and his last brush with the law had made him leery of taking chances.

Now that he was Head Butler making trouble had ceased to be fun. He was the one who had to straighten things out and it wasn't such a grand game when you were sitting on this side of the fence. John Bates was an odd one he thought. Thomas had never liked the man. He always reminded Thomas of a moving picture he had seen once of a crocodile sitting in the water unnoticed like a log waiting to strike when the time was right. He had pushed Thomas out of a prime spot in the household twice and Mosley once. It seemed no matter how far Bates sunk he always managed to wind up back on top. Thomas owed him one. He didn't doubt the man had a dangerous streak. When Miss O'Brien had beat him at their game of one of man ship it had been Bates who said, "Give me the weapon and let me do the dirty work." He had done it to perfection with the skill of a master craftsman. In the end Thomas had wound up as Under Butler. He was in debt to Bates, but he still didn't trust him.

The other night Thomas had gotten up for a hot drink when he couldn't sleep. He hadn't bothered turning on the lights. When he'd gone past Bates' room the door had been ajar. Bates' hadn't been in his bed. Thomas suspected he was off visiting one of the maids in her room. What any man saw in Anna May Bates was beyond Thomas. She was so high and mighty, but then after Bates' first wife anything would look good he supposed. After all he didn't see what anyone saw in Bates either. He just wasn't Thomas' type. He owed him one for saving his behind those few years back so he would keep his mouth shut. If Bates wanted an extra slice of pie on the side, it was nothing to him.


	8. Photographs

I have to admit I find Bates very hard to write. I keep thinking of Dollshouse Downton where he is just "So noble, so very, very noble." If you haven't seen it it's on YouTube and it is very funny. Thanks for all the comments, but honestly arsenic for suicide? Arsenic is a horrible, painful death, cyanide yes arsenic I don't think so. LOL. Fellows does what he does. It's all good fun. Finally got unblocked and figured out part of the later story. It took three days. I might have found a Thomas story in all of it, but that is for later!

Chapter 8 - Photographs

The police sergeant working on the Crawley case leaned against the bricks of an old bridge. He was dressed as a common workman and slouched in the shadows while he waited for his informant. There was a connection between the arson at the feedlot just outside of York and the Crawley case. He was sure of it, sure enough to bet his badge. He had been waiting almost ten minutes when his informant showed up. He slipped him the roll of bills to loosen the man's tongue and showed him another two bills if he was happy with the information.

"What have you got on the arson outside of York," the sergeant asked.

"It was done on orders from the top," the man said shuffling nervously. He had his hands pushed into his pockets and had a tremor common to those on the bottle who had gone too long without.

"Who's the man at the top?"

"I don't know. No one does. They call him the Mastermind."

"Does this Mastermind have another name?"

"I just told you it. If you're going to ask stupid questions I'm out of here."

"OK, OK, just calm down. There's no one about."

"Easy for you to say," the informant said glancing over his shoulder.

"Do you have a location for this Mastermind?"

"The orders came from London from a pub called the Cock and Boar."

"Who set the fires?"

"You got another roll on you?"

"I might."

"Let's see it first."

The sergeant reached in his shirt pocket and produced another two notes to add to the two in his hand.

"Adams and Greenfield. That's all I know."

The sergeant handed him the notes. The informant stuffed them into his trouser pocket and slouched away.

"_So the Mastermind is in London or was just before the fire was lit,"_ the sergeant thought. He waited a few minutes before he made his exit from under the bridge and headed off in the opposite direction. Finally they might have something to go on.

-0-

"It looks like you've been busy while I was in London with the Crawleys," John said looking around appreciatively at the spare room in the cottage he shared with his wife.

"I had a bit of time on my hands," Anna said with a smile. "You never know when we might have some company and be in need of another room. My sister was to visit while you were away and gave me a hand. I cleaned out a bit as well."

"Will I still be able to find things?" John teased putting and arm around Anna's waist.

"I'm sure you will. If you look in the right places," Anna teased back. "I'm sorry I didn't make it to London more often."

"London was the same as always in the summer, hot and noisy. You didn't miss much," John replied. "I went out with the crowd from downstairs once or twice. Otherwise I sat in the garden on my free days and read a book when the family was out."

"It sounds a bit boring," Anna said.

"In some ways it had its appeals, but nothing as appealing as being home with you," John replied swinging her back and forth a bit.

"Mr. Bates, are you feeling a bit frisky again so soon?" Anna teased.

"That and hungry," John replied with a slight chuckle. "What's for tea?"

"I was going to make a shepherd's pie," Anna said. "It can wait to later."

"I don't know why you always leave the meals to the last minute," John said. "It's easier to get it ready and then just finish it up before it goes in the oven."

"What ever you say Master Sergeant," Anna teased with John's old rank.

"I say it's easier," John said. He took Anna by the hand to their small kitchen and got out some carrots to peel and chop for the pie. Anna was busy cutting up some onion. Then she browned it along with the beef for the pie. It wasn't long and she had the mixture in the pan that would go into the oven later. John had put the flour, shortening and baking powder into a bowl and cut in the shortening.

"There," he said. "Now all you have to do is add a little water, make the crust for the top and Bob's your uncle."

"You have the oddest habits around the house for a man," Anna said with a smile.

"It's an old habit I learned from my mother," John said. "Vera didn't like it at first either until she caught on."

"John, what was the early part of your marriage to Vera like? I only know about the bad part."

"Happy enough I suppose," John said. "We were young and the world was our oyster. The possibilities were endless."

"So what changed it all?" Anna asked her smile had faded to a more serious expression.

"The African War. I signed up thinking it would be a change of scenery and maybe a new opportunity. Vera wanted our old life. We didn't see eye to eye on it. When I got back I was drinking more than I should have. She wanted to go back to how things were before and I wanted to move forward."

"Move forward to what?" Anna asked puzzled.

"New opportunities, new ways of doing things. Vera just couldn't see it. It's all in the past. Why all the questions all of a sudden?"

"Just curious," Anna said getting her smile back. "I was sorting out those papers finally. I put all the pictures into an album. There was one picture I didn't recognize."

She went to the shelf and pulled out the album. She opened it to a picture of a man in a British Army uniform.

"That's John Balfour," John replied. "He died over there. He was quite the fellow. Everyone called him the magician. He could figure anything out and fool the best of them. It was a valuable trick to have in a war zone."

"He sounds like an interesting fellow," Anna said. "You certainly looked a lot alike."

"He was interesting. People were always mistaking us for brothers. He was forever creating diversions and sneaking up on the enemy from behind. He would take them without a shot, quite amazing really. He was killed when one of the officers ordered a frontal assault that was poorly planned at best."

"That's a shame," Anna said. "It sounds as if you were close. Did Lord Grantham know him?"

"No, he was just another faceless soldier," John said closing the book and sticking it back on the shelf. "I've been in London all this time. The last thing I want to do on my day free is reminisce."

"What would you like to do?" Anna asked with a impish grin.

"Come to the sofa and I'll show you," John said pulling her over to sit on his lap.

-0-

"Lord Grantham, I was wondering if I might have a word," Thomas said one morning during breakfast a few days after everyone was back at Downton.

"Yes, Barrow. What is it?" Lord Grantham asked looking up from his paper.

"I was wondering, Sir, if I might ask a personal favor. While we were in London I was spending my free time at my cousin's. He gave me a few driving lessons. I was wondering if the chauffeur could give me a few more. I'm afraid I'm quite dreadful. I thought I might improve if a professional showed me what I was doing wrong," Thomas said.

"I didn't know you were interested in motor cars, Mr. Barrow," Tom contributed.

"I just thought it might be a useful skill to have someday," Thomas replied with a tight smile. "Motor cars are getting cheaper. Someday I might have one of my own or have a reason to drive one."

"It couldn't hurt to have someone else around here who can drive, now that Lady Edith is married and Ivy has moved on," Lord Grantham said. "Have the chauffeur give you a lesson or two in the afternoons when it is quiet."

"I'll teach you to drive myself," Tom contributed. "I rather have someone who doesn't know how to drive in a smaller vehicle than driving one of the larger cars."

"Why thank you very much, Mr. Branson," Thomas said.

"I have an appointment in Ripon this morning. I'll take you out for an hour or so after luncheon and see how you get on," Tom said.

"Very well, Sir. I'll be ready," Thomas replied.

-0-

"Try not to be so nervous," Tom said later that day while he was trying to show Thomas Barrow how to drive his car. The man had grasshoppered the car down the back drive at the Abbey four times until he got it moving and up to second gear.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I just don't seem to have the touch. It's the same with horses. The second I go near them they go crazy. I can't get them to budge or they run wild," Thomas said.

"How long have you been using your hair cream?"

"I beg your pardon, Sir?"

"I asked you how long you've been using the same hair cream," Tom said calmly.

"Since I was thirteen or fourteen," Thomas replied.

"There's your problem. Horses hate the smell of that stuff. Sets them off every time. Use a different product with less perfume and it should do the trick."

"I never thought of it, Sir."

"It's an old trick. When I started as a chauffeur I had to drive a coach half the time. You learn pretty quick," Tom replied. He gave Thomas some pointers in coming to a stop safely and staying to the side of the road. "Alright try starting off again. This time don't rev the engine. In other words don't push on the gas so hard until you feel the car start to move slightly."

Thomas did slightly better. He got the car moving with only one jerk.

"What did you do with your time in London?" Tom asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I have a cousin on the outskirts. I spent most of my time with him and his wife. I visited a few parks. Otherwise I was busy with work," Thomas replied.

"Did you go to any pubs?" Tom asked.

"Not a one, Sir," Thomas said. "I thought I'd spend my time doing something more worthwhile, like conquering the motor beast."

"I'd say your going to need quite a few more lessons before you have it conquered," Tom said with a crooked grin. "Slow down and shift to second gear. We'll take the road to the right. It leads to the back of the grounds. Nothing back there you can damage. Just stop if you see anything oncoming."

"Very well, Sir," Thomas replied letting out the breath he had been holding after he managed the shift.

-0-

"How did the meeting with the police go?" Lord Grantham asked Tom. They were walking the grounds inspecting the tent set up for the annual garden party.

"It's not Barrow," Tom replied. "They showed pictures at a pub in London they had a lead to. Not a soul recognized him. Besides I've never seen anyone that inept with a motor car before in my life. He managed to pinch his finger when I had him raise the bonnet to check the oil, then managed to get oil all over his hands with the plunger. No one can pretend to be as bad as he is."

"It's definite then?"

"His picture was recognized but we still have no concrete proof. It is all circumstantial. There are petty thefts when he was in the whereabouts, he can be placed at the pub but no one will identify him as the Mastermind, he can be placed in the area either working here or close enough to be watching over the years. There is enough to point the finger but not to convict," Tom replied.

Lord Grantham slowed. His steps faltered. He made for the closest folding chair and sat down with his hands over his face for a moment. Tom thought he had never seen his father-in-law look so weary and devastated at the same time.

"I don't know whether to cry in despair or act out in rage," Robert said sadly. "I don't know what to do."

"We can't let him know we're on to him," Tom replied. "The police were insistent on it. He's making mistakes. He thinks he's gotten away with murder. He's getting cocky. When he gets too cocky, they'll get him."

"I don't think I can take much more of this charade. He managed to pull the wool over everyone's eyes," Robert said.

"Not everyone," Tom said. "The wool is off ours now and the police's."

"To think I thought the worst of Barrow for years," Robert said.

"Thomas Barrow has always been petty. He's learned a few lessons the hard way. I never thought he had it in him to do something on this scale."

"I would have leaned the opposite way," Robert said with a sigh. "I haven't said it before but I don't know what I would do if you weren't here right now. I feel so utterly betrayed."

"If I wasn't here you'd get out your best shotgun and give him one in the arse like he deserves," Tom said in an attempt to lighten the situation.

"One day soon, I might just do that," Robert replied.

"Just don't ask me to load it for you. I'd probably put the shell in the wrong way round," Tom joked.

"You aren't that bad," Robert replied with a faint smile.

"How many pheasants did I bag at the last shoot?"

"Not a one."

"Barrow has a better chance of driving over one in the middle of the road," Tom said. "He really is dreadful."

"Worse than Edith was?" Robert asked getting up to continue on.

"Much and that's saying something," Tom said patting his father-in-law on the shoulder as they headed towards the house.


	9. Close on His Heels

Motives and all are coming up in following chapters. Another eight chapters after this one!

Chapter 9 – Close on His Heals

He had walked the mail down to the village, picked up the post and was on his way back. The beauty of a post box was that he could receive letters and no one at the house would be the wiser. Even the name on the envelope was a mis-direction. The letters arrived care of. There wasn't a trace of his real name. So what if the post box cost a few shillings a year. It was nothing compared to what he had made off the estate. He had a letter from his contact at the Cock and Boar tucked snuggly inside his jacket pocket. When he got far enough out of the village he would give it a quick read.

Half way back to the estate he set the mail down on a large rock beside the road and took a seat. He reached for the letter and ripped it open. The police had been around with pictures of him and another man. Damn! The jig was up! He had to get out of there, so much for his cushy spot. The only problem there were things he didn't want to leave behind. Why hadn't the police come to arrest him? They had been around two weeks ago.

"_Calm,"_ he reminded himself. _"Stay calm, patience is its own reward." _He slowed his breathing and heart rate. Then got up and headed back towards the Abbey with the bundle of mail. _"If the police haven't come for you it means they don't have the proof they need to make an arrest,"_ he comforted himself. He'd been sloppy that much was evident. He'd taken out revenge on the feedlot for short changing him. The two goons he'd had doing the thefts weren't bright enough to figure out how to do him out of his share. They must have traced the arson back to the pub. So why were they delaying arrest if they knew he was behind it?

There was still no evidence connecting him to Crawley's death, therefore there wasn't any evidence connecting him to the thefts. A slow smile spread across his face. Evidence could always be redirected. He had proven that in the past. Perhaps it was time to slip away, but there was something he wanted to take with him. He wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything before in his life, except money that is. Well maybe he wanted it as much as money.

The police hadn't made a move, but he was sure they were watching. If he tried to take a train he would be spotted. If he stole a car it would stick out like a sore thumb. No, running off like a chicken with its head cut off wouldn't do. _"Planning. It's all in the planning," _he told himself. _"I think I'll make a trip to his lordship's library when I get back."_

-0-

"Where are you thinking about going when you retire, Mrs. Hughes," John Bates asked one evening over dinner.

"I'm not sure," Mrs. Hughes replied. "Not too far a field, I think. I have friends round about. I don't fancy going to a new place and starting all over. It won't be for another year or two yet. Once Mrs. Bates is fully trained I'll think about it more carefully."

"I've always thought I would like to see the town where my mother was born," John commented. "I think I will go there when I retire for a trip anyway." He reached over and squeezed Anna's hand.

"Surely that won't be for many years yet," Mrs. Hughes commented.

"Who knows when any of us will be put out to pasture with that Mr. Branson running things," Miss O'Brien griped. "The next he'll be getting rid of the chauffeur and having everyone drive themselves about."

"Miss O'Brien if you want to learn to drive, why don't you ask Mr. Branson yourself, or walk down to the village on your free day and ask his brother?" Thomas said in exasperation.

"Who says I want to learn to drive one of those dirty smelly machines?" Miss O'Brien groused.

"You did last night," Alfred said calmly. "You said it would be an invigorating experience."

"That's enough out of you," Miss O'Brien snapped at her nephew. Everyone was trying to hide their sniggers.

"I'd be happy to give you some lessons Miss O'Brien," the chauffeur said. "If his lordship agrees to it."

"I'll ask his lordship later," Miss O'Brien said with a slight smile. "Thank you for the kind offer." She batted her eyelashes at the man but it looked more like she was going to be ill.

"What about you Anna, why don't you learn to drive?" John asked.

"What would I possibly need to know how to drive for?" Anna replied. "I have two legs that get me there and back well enough."

"Don't you want to be a woman of the world?" Thomas asked her.

"Not particularly," Anna said.

"I'd learn to drive in a second if they made a car I could fit into," Alfred said.

"I drove in the army," Jimmy said. "There wasn't much to it."

"Well, I for one am quite enjoying the experience of learning to drive," Thomas said. "The new motors from America are getting cheaper all the time. One day soon everyone will be able to afford a car. It won't be just for the rich."

"Then the local mechanic will be the rich one, or in your case the pharmacist selling you bandages for your fingers," Miss O'Brien said.

"I'll have you know on my last lesson, I didn't hurt myself at all," Thomas informed her. "I put the petrol in without any problems."

"Anyone can pump petrol. There's a ten year old boy at the local garage that fills the cars with petrol after school and on weekends," the chauffeur volunteered.

"Yes, well, at least I'm attempting to learn unlike others who refuse to try," Thomas said.

"Meaning?" Anna asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It might be more economical to have an inexpensive car for the household errands. You'll be the housekeeper one day. It might be an advantage if you could drive," Thomas said.

"Alright, already, I'll try, if that is what Lord Grantham wants," Anna said.

"I'll speak to him tomorrow," Thomas said.

"_Perfect. I suggest and he swallows it hook, line and sinker. They'll all be so preoccupied with their lessons no one will notice when I make a quick exit. Even better if I could persuade one or two of them come along on the first leg on a group trip into York or Ripon. I can slip off onto the train and be gone before anyone notices. Hopefully, that would keep Branson and the police off my tail for at least a few hours."_

-0-

"I'm not sure if an inexpensive car for the staff would be more economical or not," Lord Grantham said the next morning at breakfast when Thomas brought up the topic. "What do the rest of you think?"

"The American cars are certainly cheaper, but there are ways of finding used cars for a good price as well," Tom said.

"I would have to do some cost projections," Rose commented. "Thank you for the suggestion, Mr. Barrow. I will look into it."

"Lady Rose," Thomas said. He was practically bouncing in excitement as he headed back downstairs.

"He's getting marginally better at driving," Tom said with a sigh. "I would like a cheaper car though to teach them all to drive on. Mine is a bit much for a beginner."

"Any word from the police detective?" Robert asked.

"I talked to him yesterday afternoon. They have an informant in protective custody who can positively identify the ring leader. Apparently the leader goes by the name of the Mastermind in the underworld," Tom said.

"Thank goodness. Do you think they'll make an arrest soon?" Rose asked.

"He seemed to think this afternoon," Tom replied. He could see Jimmy's ears practically flapping out of the corner of his eye where he was standing at attention at the side of the room.

"I want the guilty party behind bars. The sooner the better," Robert stated.

"Oh, Jimmy, I forgot you were there," Tom said.

Robert turned to look at Jimmy. "Not a word of this to the others," Robert said sternly.

"Of course Lord Grantham. My lips are sealed," Jimmy replied.

Rose and Tom headed upstairs to get Sybil. She normally went with Rose for the mornings to the stable. Tom had decided to stick close to them this morning to be on the safe side. They had arranged for Robert and Cora to stay with the twins.

"Tom what's going on?" Rose asked on their way to the stables. Sybil was running ahead.

"The police are watching the house. There is no informant. They haven't managed to positively connect him with the arson yet. They were acting on a tip that isn't admissible in court. When he goes for the money he has stashed, they'll have him on money laundering charges. Once they have the money, they can match it to the bank records and then directly back to Matthew's death. They're going to search that pub in London as well and see if they can find anything for a positive identification."

"I'm frightened," Rose said.

"Lord and Lady Grantham are spending the day with the twins. We have Sybil with us. He's not a violet man. That's not his style. He's all smoke and mirrors. When he runs the police will follow."

"You're sure?"

"We're betting everything on it. If it doesn't work we'll throw him off the estate tomorrow. Lord Grantham can't take anymore."

"Fingers crossed, darling," Rose said.

-0-

The servants' hall was a clatter of voices and confusion when Robert Crawley went downstairs to address the servants shortly after breakfast. He spotted Thomas Barrow in the middle of the fray trying to calm everyone and silence the voices with Jimmy standing off to the side with his eyes wide open repeating what he had overheard in the dining room over and over. Robert caught himself before he smiled. The plan was going perfectly.

"Lord Grantham," Barrow said snapping to attention. The rest of the room went silent as well.

"Mr. Barrow, I see my warning to Jimmy to keep quiet fell on deaf ears. Since you've heard second hand you might as well hear it from me. Mr. Branson tells me we are expecting a visit from the police later today. This entire nasty mess should be cleared up shortly," Lord Grantham said.

"Lord Grantham, I want to say on behalf of everyone here, we'll all be glad when the culprit is arrested and brought to justice," Mrs. Hughes said.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hughes. We'll all be relieved when this is done, but it won't change what has been taken from us," Lord Grantham said seriously. "I wanted to reassure you all there is nothing to fear to the innocent parties."

"Of course not, Lord Grantham. We've all been waiting for this day and are glad it's finally here," Thomas said. "I'll be standing by waiting for the police to arrive."

"Thank you, Mr. Barrow. Mrs. Crawley and the Dowager Countess will be out for most of the day. They don't want to be present if there is any unpleasantness. My wife and I will be spending the day with the children," Robert said.

"Very good, Lord Grantham," Thomas replied.

"Good day to you all," Robert said with a slight bow.

"Everyone try to go about your business as normal," Thomas said. "Hopefully, this will all be over with a minimum of fuss."

The crowd in the servants' hall broke up.

"Who do you think it is?" Mrs. Hughes asked Thomas quietly.

"I have no idea," he replied. "I'm just glad it isn't either of us."

Anna pulled her husband to the side once they were out in the hall.

"I love you, Mr. John Bates," Anna said.

"What's brought this on?" John asked.

"On a day like this I don't think you can say it enough," she said.

"I love you, Anna May Bates, with all my heart. I didn't think it was possible to love anyone as much as I love you," John replied. He stroked her hair and the side of her face.

"Do you know what today is?" Anna asked him.

"No idea," John answered.

"It's the anniversary of when we moved into our own place," Anna said.

"Is it? Someday maybe we'll have a place that is truly our own. Maybe in the town where my mother was born," John said. "I've always wanted to see it."

"That's a long way off," Anna said.

"We talked about selling my mother's house in London and opening a hotel. Maybe the time is right."

"A hotel in Ireland?" Anna said with a chuckle.

"Why not? The world is our oyster and perhaps Ireland is our pearl," John replied.

"John, you do go on," Anna said with a smile. She spotted Mrs. Hughes waiting for her. "Duty calls. I'm looking forward to being home tonight. Just the two of us."

"Always," John replied with a smile.


	10. Escape

There has been a glitch going on. I am hoping you can all read chapter 9 and 10 now. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter 10 – Escape

"_The police didn't announce when they were coming to arrest someone if they had proof. Who were they trying to kid? Still things were getting too hot for him to stick around any longer."_ He'd been planning his exit ever since he had the letter from London saying the police had identified him. He had a case packed with three of Grantham's best suits, a cashmere over coat and three pairs of brand new shoes he'd ordered on Grantham's account. If he was leaving, he would leave in style. He had the cash he'd had stashed packed with the clothes as well. He'd wrapped the case in a piece of canvas to protect it from the elements and hidden it in a thicket of blackberries just outside of the village. It blended into the thicket so well, it was difficult to find even if you knew it was there. He got on his hat and coat, picked up the morning's out going mail and headed for the village.

He was sure the police were watching. This was going to have to be a game of pure distraction. He walked to the post office as if nothing were amiss. He collected the mail for the estate and checked his box. He made as though he were looking through the letters looking for something. When a group of women from the village came in he slipped around the counter and out through the back door. He promptly dumped the pile of letters into a waste bin as he set off along the back lane. A quick glimpse around the corner of the building confirmed his suspicions. There was a car with two men sitting across the street. The police were following him and waiting for him to come out of the post office. He continued along the back lane until he reached a row of cottages. Every one of them had a garden. It was easy enough to stay close to the bushes so no one would spot him out the window. He stopped when he got to Kieran Branson's. There was Kieran Branson's automobile sitting in the back garden in a small shed that had once served as a carriage house.

Back when Kieran and Ivy had first married he had been to the reception and by again to stop in for a visit. Like so many other cottages there was a rack on the wall by the back door to hold their keys. He smiled to himself as he made his way through the garden and glanced in the window. There was no sign of Ivy. He tried the door. Sure enough it was unlocked. From all those years ago when he was first working with his accomplice he knew people in small villages seldom locked their doors. They knew their neighbors or thought they did. There was no need.

He quickly grabbed the car keys off the rack. He spotted Ivy's brightly patterned scarf and her hat on a peg by the door. He helped himself to those as well. Once he was in the car, he took off his hat, wrapped Ivy's scarf around his neck and put her hat on his head. He looked ridiculous but it was enough to fool someone with a casual glance. He started the car. It had been years since he had driven and the controls had changed over the years. He hadn't been ignoring what was going on though. Every time he had ridden in the front seat of a car or gotten a ride with a lorry driver, he had watched carefully and noted the changes and how things worked. He over revved the engine a bit and took off with a squeak of the tires but he hadn't stalled the machine yet. He did a bit of a coasting shift up to the next gear. It was enough to get him through the village. No one drove all that fast in the village anyway. As he passed the post office he noticed the two policemen emerging from the building to look up and down the street. They knew he had given them the slip. By the time they figured out he had stolen the car, he had at least a fifteen minute lead. He made his way as fast as he dared back towards the Abbey. They would be looking for him in the opposite direction.

It only took a few seconds for him to retrieve the case from the bushes and toss it in the boot. He threw the canvas in there as well. You never knew when a bit of camouflage would come in handy. He was leaving his most prize possession behind. It couldn't be helped. Someday he would claim it, but not today. He took a back road and then another. The best thing about stealing a car from one of the Bransons was they both liked fast cars. This one was capable of doing at least sixty miles an hour or more. As he was getting the hang of driving he was going faster and faster on the straightaways. He had thought about heading to Ireland. It was the fastest way out of the country, but then again the police would know that and be looking for him.

He headed south instead. A nice relaxing ferry ride to France would be just the ticket. Let his new identity settle in and then travel back through England to Ireland. It sounded good to him. Ireland was full of small towns just ripe for the plucking. He had more than enough cash to see him through the winter. Spring would be soon enough to stop by the bank and withdraw his funds. He threw back his head and laughed. There was no way they were going to catch him. He spotted a muddy ditch by the side of the road. He stopped, not bothering to turn off the car. He got a handful of mud and smeared it across the plate. _"No sense making it easy on the police,"_ he thought.

-0-

"Mrs. Hughes, would you mind if I took a bit of time this afternoon," Anna asked. "I wanted to made a special dinner for John tonight to celebrate the crook being caught and the anniversary of moving to our own place. I thought I'd get a start on it early."

"Go ahead," Mrs. Hughes said with a sigh. "It's better than looking at the long faces around here. You'd think the police were coming to arrest everyone of them," Mrs. Hughes said gesturing to the gloomy group starting to assemble for lunch.

"Mr. Bates mentioned he was going to work in the attics today getting his Lordship's winter things down. You won't mention the surprise dinner when you see him?" Anna asked.

"No, now you go on. If Mr. Bates is up in the attics it will be a while before we see him," Mrs. Hughes said.

Anna hurried back to their cottage. She would bake a batch of scones they could have with the jar of strawberry jam she had left from summer for their breakfast. Dinner would be fresh vegetables that were still about from the autumn harvest and a pheasant she had gotten from the gamekeeper. It would be a lovely supper with candles for light. She didn't need a grand table to have a romantic dinner.

She hung up her hat and coat, put on her apron and set about making the scones. _"Drat that shelf over the work counter,"_ she thought. She would have to get John to tighten it up later. It was always wiggling. She put the dry ingredients in the bowl and mixed them together. John was right about making things ahead it made it so much easier. She turned to get the jug of milk from the ice box, as she turned back the tin of pepper sitting on the wiggly shelf tipped over and sprinkled a generous amount right into the mixing bowl.

"Oh no," Anna groaned. She put her hands on either side of the mixing bowl and looked down at the pepper sprinkled on top of the mixture. She was just reaching for a spoon when her hand stopped in mid air. John had said Vera had the habit of making pastry ahead. She had learned the habit from him just as Anna had done. Anna looked down at the pepper in the bowl again. It would be easy to add anything to a bowl in the middle of the afternoon if the dough mixture was made and sitting out. It wasn't one massive dose of arsenic. It had never made sense. All these years and it finally was clear. Arsenic was a cumulative poison, small doses administered over a long period of time that never left the body for your entire life. Small doses that could be administered, like when people lived as husband and wife! Mrs. Bartlett had said Vera had looked terrible for months. John had been coming back for his tea. It didn't make any difference if he had. Someone had more than enough opportunity to add the arsenic to the pie. They had fought or so he claimed. The final dose was high enough to finally do her in. Vera hadn't killed herself. She was murdered.

Anna looked up from the bowl in shock. She thought she might faint. John wasn't guilty. He had told her so many times he was innocent. She had listened to his explanations because she loved him. It couldn't have been him could it? She wanted him to be innocent. She was still reeling from the shock when there was a knock on the door. She went to answer the door still holding the offending mixing bowl in her hand.

-0-

"Kieran, where are those two little devils," Ivy demanded tapping her foot. It was after school and the boys were at the garage helping out until suppertime.

"What did they do now?" Kieran asked with a sigh.

"They've taken my best scarf and hat. If I see my things going past on a horse pulling a hay wagon, I'm going to box their ears," Ivy said angrily.

Kieran called the boys from where they were sorting bits for the scrappers.

"Ivy says you've taken her hat and scarf. Have you?" Kieran asked Shaun and Timothy.

"No," Timothy said looking right at Kieran.

"No, they were on the hook by the door when we left for school, like always I think" Shaun said.

"They didn't walk away by themselves," Ivy said with her hands on her hips.

"Why would we take them?" Timothy asked frankly. "We don't want you to send us back to the farm to live."

"If I find out you're lying I'll warm your bottoms," Ivy threatened.

"We're too big for you to spank," Shaun pointed out calmly. "Since we didn't take them you don't need to."

"We'll have a bit of a look around after I close up," Kieran said. "Maybe you left them in the car when you had it out yesterday. Shaun run over and check for Ivy."

"All right," Shaun ran down the lane then crossed the road to go look for Ivy's things. It wasn't a few minutes and Shaun was back. He was almost out of breath he had run so fast. "Kieran, the car is gone."

"What? It can't be. You two weren't out joy riding were you?" he said.

Two heads shook, No.

"I'll be damned," Kieran said. He telephoned the local constable to meet him at their cottage. As soon as the garage was locked up they headed over to the cottage to wait for the police. They didn't have long to wait when two police cars pulled up and the Detective Inspector and the Sergeant they recognized from December got out along with another Detective.

"Now we know how he got out of town," the Detective said.

"Who ever it was took my hat and scarf as well," Ivy said in annoyance. "My best ones."

"Do you know who took my car and my wife's things?" Kieran asked.

"We do. He goes by the alias of the Mastermind," the Detective Inspector replied.


	11. Shock

Yay, fanfic started working again. I will put a few notes at the end of this chapter on real life inspiration and a few things about the show. Enjoy.

Chapter 11 – Shock

Elsie Hughes had been checking the downstairs rooms for cleaning jobs when Tom Branson approached her just after luncheon.

"Mrs. Hughes, I need you to come with me to the police station in Ripon," Tom said quietly. "It's Anna."

"What's wrong? She's not in trouble is she?" Mrs. Hughes asked in concern. Her heart was in her throat. She had worked with Anna for a very long time and the woman was like the daughter she had never had.

"No she's not in trouble. The police called. She is in shock. She knows and trusts you. I'll take you to her. I'll get my hat and coat. We can leave through the servants' entrance."

"Very well, Mr. Branson," Mrs. Hughes said. She could tell by the look on his face whatever was going on was dead serious. She felt her heart speed up a notch with the urgency.

Thomas Barrow was in his office checking the wine register as they passed by.

"Mr. Barrow, I'm driving Mrs. Hughes to the police station in Ripon," Tom said. "I don't know when we'll be back. We'll most likely get our tea out. Mrs. Hughes isn't in trouble and there is nothing to worry about."

"Yes, Sir," Thomas replied somewhat in shock. It was only a minute or two later Mrs. Hughes came out of her sitting room wearing her coat, hat and purse. Her hat was on a bit crooked and she was pulling on her gloves.

"Now will you tell me what's really going on, Mr. Branson," Mrs. Hughes said as they were pulling out of the main gates of the Abbey. She hated being kept in the dark when it concerned someone she felt responsible for.

"Anna is at the police station. The police went to the cottage earlier looking for Mr. Bates. This is going to be difficult to hear Mrs. Hughes, but it is believed John Bates is the man behind the thefts and Mr. Crawley's death."

"Surely not! We all know Mr. Bates. How could it possibly be him?" Mrs. Hughes said.

Tom only set his jaw. The look on his face told Mrs. Hughes not to argue.

"You're in a state of disbelief Mrs. Hughes. Lord Grantham and I have been aware of the investigation and the prime suspects for months. Believe me it wasn't easy to accept at first, but I assure you it is true and there may be more as things unfold."

"I'm stunned," Mrs. Hughes replied.

"Bates evaded the police tail this morning. He's on the run. I don't know much at the moment except that they took Anna to the police station. She's in a severe state of shock. They asked someone close to her be present," Tom said. "We'll find out more when we arrive."

Mrs. Hughes remained silent for the rest of the short trip into Ripon. She was in her own state of shock. She had convinced herself the culprit was someone from the outside staff. It was a difficult thing to hear that someone you had championed their cause and sat across the table for meals for years could be responsible for something so terrible.

The sergeant at the desk summoned another constable to show them into the office where Anna was. Mrs. Hughes went to sit beside Anna and took her hand. Anna's face was pale and she had a faraway look.

"Mrs. Hughes," Anna said. "Did you need me to check the linens? I was making pastry. I must have lost track of the time."

"The linens are all counted. There is no rush," Mrs. Hughes said. She glanced at the police detective and Tom then back to Anna.

"Anna, Mr. Branson's here. He asked me to come. He said you'd had a shock," Mrs. Hughes said.

"Yes, that's right. I was making pastry early in the day. The same way Vera did. Did you know you can put anything in pastry earlier in the day and no one will even know it's there," Anna said vaguely.

"I see you still have some on your hands. Did you want to wash it off?" Mrs. Hughes asked her.

"John will be back for his tea," Anna said. "No, no that isn't right. He went back for his tea but he got in a fight with Vera. That's why he didn't eat the pie. Someone put arsenic in the bowl in the afternoon."

"Did he?" Mrs. Hughes asked. She glanced at the detective who was making notes.

"He's very good at making me forget," Anna said. She was still gazing off into space.

"What is it you forgot, Mrs. Bates?" the detective asked. He was careful not to raise his voice or ask anything too forcefully.

"I forgot what Mrs. Bartlett said," Anna replied. "She said Vera was making pastry. She was scrubbing it off her hands. Everyone thought she had mixed the flour and lard then, but she didn't. She went to the post and John was coming back for his tea."

"How do you know she didn't mix the flour and lard then?" the detective questioned.

"John showed me it was easier to do it ahead. His mother showed him. He showed Vera too. It was easier. That's why I was getting things ready this afternoon," Anna said. "I dropped the pepper." She looked at Mrs. Hughes then collapsed against her breaking out in tears.

"There, there," Mrs. Hughes crooned. "We'll go and get your hands washed and you can wash your face."

"Shouldn't Mrs. Bates see a doctor?" Tom asked the detective.

The detective got up and called a man from the office to show Mrs. Hughes and Anna to the washroom.

"It's important we get the information from Mrs. Bates while it is fresh in her mind," the detective said once the women had left the room. "When I've finished with questioning you may take her for medical attention."

"Detective, I insist. Bates duped his wife as well as the rest of us. She's clearly in no state to be questioned. Has she even had anything to eat since you brought her here?"

"Mr. Branson, Mrs. Bates was in possession of the information to prove Mr. Bates killed his first wife. He was released under false pretenses. Whether she was aware of this and acted as accessory or was duped by her husband is unclear."

"I've known Anna Bates for years. She is one of the most honest women I know. She would have never knowingly been an accessory to murder," Tom said. "Are you charging her with a crime?"

"No, Mrs. Bates won't be charged," the Detective replied.

"Why haven't you got Bates in custody?"

"He's very elusive. He gave his tail the slip this morning. We haven't been able to find a trace of him."

"So he could still be in vicinity of the Abbey?"

"No, we don't believe so. He's long gone but we are not sure how," the detective said. "We have turned up a new lead. It seems he kept a post box at the village post office. The London police are returning to the Cock and Boar with a search warrant. If we can prove a connection between the pub and the post box we will have sufficient proof to charge him with arson."

"But not the proof to charge him with Matthew Crawley's murder?"

"Small steps, Mr. Branson. Each piece of the puzzle leads to another."

"Meanwhile he's on the loose and we knowingly kept a killer on the property."

"It comes down to the burden of proof, Mr. Branson. We have some proof but not enough for a conviction. You saw what happened with his first wife's murder. He served some time but was able to worm his way out of it by misdirecting the truth."

Tom only grimaced in reply.

Mrs. Hughes returned with Anna who was shaking and pale.

"Why don't you take Mrs. Bates to the hospital in Downton?" the detective said. "I'll catch up with her later today.

Tom and Mrs. Hughes got Anna out to the car. Mrs. Hughes sat in the back with Anna. Tom pulled up in front of Rose's favorite teashop in Ripon.

"I don't want to go in," Anna said tearfully.

"I'll get you a take away bun or some such. You have to try and eat something," Tom said.

"I quite agree," Mrs. Hughes said. "Not eating won't help anything."

Mrs. Hughes watched Mr. Branson go into the shop. She rubbed Anna's back while they were alone in the car.

"Everything will turn out as it should in the end," Mrs. Hughes comforted the younger woman.

"Mrs. Hughes, what if John never comes back?" Anna asked.

"That is a question you shouldn't try to answer right now," Mrs. Hughes said with her heart sinking. She didn't have the answer for Anna. At the moment she didn't think anyone did.

Tom Branson returned with a packet with a sandwich and biscuit inside. Mrs. Hughes coaxed Anna to eat a few bites on the way back to Downton. They stopped at the hospital to see Dr. Clarkson. Once the situation was explained to him, he admitted Anna to the hospital for twenty-four hours observation.

"It would be best if she not go back to the cottage. The Abbey may cause her more distress at the moment as well. She's suffering from a form of anxiety. It can happen when a person receives bad news they just can't accept," Dr. Clarkson said.

"Will she be alright, Doctor?" Mrs. Hughes asked.

"Eventually, with time. For the moment, I will sedate her. Rest will help and the presence of someone she knows and trusts," Dr. Clarkson replied.

"I'll leave you with Anna, Mrs. Hughes," Tom said. "Call the house when you want to be picked up. I'll come or send the driver."

"Very well, Mr. Branson," Mrs. Hughes replied. She turned back to help guide Anna to the bed she had been assigned. Only this morning Anna had seemed so happy. Now Anna's world was upside down and her own along with it.

-0-

Thomas Barrow stood on the bottom step of the servants' stair and addressed the crowd in front of him. It was a sea of nervous faces. Some of the people he had worked with almost all of his adult life were missing at the moment.

"I don't know anymore myself," Thomas repeated. "Lord Grantham has said he will have a meeting with all the staff tomorrow during the morning in the great hall. He's asked me to go to the village and ask if the younger Mr. Mosely is available to act as valet. The family has asked for an informal dinner tonight. Miss O'Brien is sitting with her ladyship and Mrs. Hughes went with Mr. Branson to the police station in Ripon earlier today. I can't tell you anything else."

"Where are Mr. and Mrs. Bates? Lord Grantham said the police were coming to make an arrest and they haven't been to the house," One of the junior maids asked. "Are we safe?"

A murmur went through the crowd.

"We're perfectly safe," Thomas reassured her. "The person the police were after is gone. Lord Grantham said they're gone for good. We're safer now than we have been in months. They'll let us know the news when they hear anything. Mrs. Hughes will be back soon. She may have more information."

Thomas went into his office and closed the door. He felt as though someone had pulled the rug out from under his feet. Only this morning he had been thinking about the plans for a small staff car and who would be trained to drive it. Now he was down two staff members, maybe three since Mrs. Hughes wasn't here. He had no idea where Bates or Anna was. Everyone upstairs was in a state. He missed Mrs. Hughes reassuring presence. She always seemed to know exactly what to say. For the first time since he was made Head Butler he wished it was Mr. Carson and not him who was here to steer the ship. He grabbed his hat from the peg by the door and headed down to the garage to find the chauffeur with determination. This was one time he wasn't walking into the village. He would get the chauffeur to drive him to Mosley's and bring them back if the man was available.

Something was definitely afoot, Thomas noted as they passed through the village. There was a police car parked outside of Kieran and Ivy Branson's cottage with a throng of people standing on the sidewalk looking on. Further down the lane another police car was parked outside the post office. Whatever was going on it was going to be the talk of the village for at least the next year. Thomas spotted Mr. Carson at the door of his shop watching the goings on. Thomas gestured to the chauffeur to stop so he could speak to Mr. Carson.

"What the devil is going on Mr. Carson?" Thomas asked. He didn't bother to pussy foot around asking for the latest gossip.

"I was hoping you could tell me," Mr. Carson replied. "There have been police around all day. The village is in an uproar and no one seems to know a thing about what is going on."

"All we know is the police were supposed to come by and make an arrest this afternoon. We haven't seen hide or hair of them. They all seem to be here," Thomas replied. "Mrs. Hughes went off with Mr. Branson earlier. I'm on my way to see if young Mr. Mosely is available to come and work at the Abbey as valet."

"Where is Bates?"

"We don't know. It couldn't be him could it?" Thomas questioned wide-eyed with his mouth gaping.

"It's best not to jump to conclusions, Mr. Barrow," Mr. Carson said. "Young Mr. Mosley is working as a spare at a hunting party over towards Thursk for the week."

"Wonderful," Thomas said in a discouraged tone. "You wouldn't be interested in coming out to the Abbey even for a few hours or even days would you Mr. Carson. We could really use a steadying presence at the moment."

"I was just closing up," Mr. Carson said. "Give me a few minutes to go by my cottage and pick up an overnight bag and some suitable attire."

"Thank you, Mr. Carson. I appreciate it and I know Lord Grantham will too," Thomas replied. "Get in and we'll give you a lift to your cottage."

"You must be in need of a steadying presence, if you want an old war horse like me back," Mr. Carson said seriously before hurryied to lock up.

-0-

Mr. Carson walked up the stairs he was so familiar with in the company of Thomas Barrow. It seemed strange. He had thought of this house for so long as home and now he felt as a visitor. The old expression, you can never go home again was true. He enjoyed his small cottage and the teashop and the steady stream of people, who came through the door to have their lunch, chat or just say hello. Instead of living vicariously through another man's family, his was now made up of the people he interacted with everyday.

"Jimmy, where is Lord Grantham?" Thomas asked when he spotted the footman in the main hall.

"He's in the drawing room with the rest of them," Jimmy said. "Hello, Mr. Carson, fancy seeing you back and in your livery."

"James," Mr. Carson said.

"We call him Jimmy, now," Thomas said.

"Humpf," was all Mr. Carson replied.

They entered the drawing room to a less than happy scene. The Dowager Countess and Isobel Crawley were sitting down looking pale and worn. Lady Grantham was sitting on a chair staring off into space while Lord Grantham was standing beside her looking equally as worn. Even Lady Rose who was usually bright and chipper was sitting with her head down staring into a cup of rapidly cooling tea.

"Carson, old chap, what are you doing here? Never mind, I can't tell you what a relief it is to see you," Lord Grantham said striding across the room to take the older man's hand in a firm shake.

"Mr. Barrow said you were in need of a valet for a few days, milord," Carson said. "I volunteered my services for a day or two until a new one could be secured."

"Carson, you couldn't have come at a more opportune time," Violet said. "It seems drama and this house go together hand in hand these days."

"Lady Grantham, I am at your service," Carson replied.

"We're all glad you're here," Cora said. "We've had a terrible shock. Knowing is almost worse than not knowing."

"I think I'll go up and lie down for a bit," Isobel said unsteadily.

"I'll come with you," Rose said quietly. "I wanted to go up and check on the children."

"Carson, Thomas come with me to the library," Lord Grantham said. "I'll fill you in on the details or as much as we know."

The two men did a slight bow and followed Lord Grantham to the library. When they got to the room Lord Grantham signaled Thomas to close the doors. Thomas had a feeling of dread. Whatever they were about to hear wasn't going to be pleasant.

"As you both surely know, there has been a thief living amongst us off and on for the last thirteen years. When this man wasn't living and working on the estate he was close by, keeping an eye on things. It's believed he is responsible for Mr. Crawley's death and a recent arson. The police have strong evidence that points directly to him. They are still working to collect evidence that would lead to a conviction," Lord Grantham paused. "This morning I announced the police would be making an arrest in an attempt to push him into making a mistake that would give concrete evidence leading to his arrest and conviction."

"Is this tied to the hullabaloo going on in the village, milord?" Mr. Carson asked. The hair on the back of his neck was standing on end and his heart was racing in dread.

"I'm afraid so, Carson," Lord Grantham continued. "The man evaded the police and is on the run. It was Bates."

"No," Mr. Carson said in shock.

"Lord Grantham, I sincerely don't know what to say," Thomas said. He felt as though the room were spinning slightly.

"There is nothing you can say," Lord Grantham said. "He stole something from me, from us all more precious than money. He took Matthew's life and he stole our trust. It can never be put right."

"If you'll forgive me, milord," Mr. Carson said. He slowly collapsed into a chair. Lord Grantham got a shot of whisky in a glass and handed it to the older man. Carson reached out and took it blindly.

"I don't have any more details at the moment. I think it is best to wait until tomorrow to notify the remaining staff," Lord Grantham said.

"As you wish, milord. It will be difficult to keep this quiet for too long. The Bates' absence has already been noticed," Thomas said.

"We'll assemble the staff in the morning and make an announcement," Lord Grantham said. "Carson are you alright?"

"Yes, milord," Mr. Carson said getting to his feet and straightening his jacket. "It is difficult news but we must carry on."

"Don't ever change, Carson," Lord Grantham said with a small grin on an otherwise serious countenance.

"I try not to, milord," Mr. Carson replied stiffly. "Now what will you be wearing for dinner?"

Notes:

Parts of this story over the next few chapters is inspired by very odd murder case in California, involving Erik and Lyle Menendez. It is made even odder by the women in the brothers' lives. Both brothers married after they were convicted of a double homicide. I did some research on psychological trauma for this and the previous story. In some forms of grief the first reaction is denial. The person is in such an extreme state of shock their mind will not let them accept what has happened.

When I research Who Killed Vera Bates, I went over every bit of dialogue in season one and two. I actually found more to point to guilty than innocent. In that story I had Vera die of accidental poisoning, but I was never able to prove that Bates was innocent. In the real show Bates is released from prison on Audry Bartlett's testimony although there is more in the testimony to convict than to prove his innocence. For this story I took the road of guilty. In series one, Bates says to Anna, "You don't know what I'm really like and what I am capable of doing." Hmmm. Curious yet Fellows is a master of changing the story to suit and having a number of story lines that don't add up and we love the show anyway. Anyway, it is all for entertainment and don't despair, there are more twists and turns and bumps in the road coming.


	12. Finding the Sun

Chapter 12 – Finding the Sun

Elsie Hughes returned to the Abbey that evening worn out. Anna had finally fallen asleep with the aid of a strong sedative. The poor dear was in a terrible state. She had kept asking when John was coming back. Her mind wouldn't let her accept her husband was behind the crimes that had been committed and especially the murder of Matthew Crawley. Anna couldn't bring herself to believe he was responsible for Vera's death. Anna was rationalizing how desperate John must have been to take such a desperate measure as to lie his way out of prison. Despite everything she knew to the contrary Anna's love for him wouldn't let her believe he was a bad person.

Mrs. Hughes hung her hat and coat in her closet and went to the kitchen to check how dinner was getting on. She was greeted with the standard chaos of a family meal with the footmen going back and forth with laden trays and Mrs. Patmore and Alfred turning out perfectly timed dishes one after the other. She turned to head back to her sitting room to fix herself a cup of tea. After this afternoon she deserved it. She was surprised when she ran into Mr. Carson coming down the stairs in his livery.

"Mr. Carson, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Just lending a helping hand in time of need, Mrs. Hughes," he said. "Mr. Mosely has been contacted. He will take over as valet in a few days."

"Won't you come and join me in my sitting room?"

"I'd be delighted," Mr. Carson said. He sat down with a sigh. Despite being here under less than happy circumstances Mrs. Hughes was a sight for sore eyes. She was the one person who he missed having daily contact with.

"How much has the staff been told?" Mrs. Hughes asked while she put the kettle on to boil.

"Very little. They are waiting until morning to tell everyone exactly what is going on," Mr. Carson said.

"I've been with Anna. The poor dear is distraught. She's in hospital for a day or two to recover from the shock. It seems there is new evidence that Mr. Bates did in fact do away with his first wife."

"Good gracious, is there no low the man wouldn't stoop to in order to feather his own nest," Mr. Carson commented. "We all had such faith in him."

"It's a nasty business and one I'd rather not discuss," Mrs. Hughes replied. "How will you manage the teashop if you're here for a few days?"

"Jenny, the girl I have working for me can manage for a few days on her own. Her sister comes in now and then. It will take care of itself."

"How do you like being your own boss?"

"I never thought I would say this Mrs. Hughes, but I'm just a visitor here nowadays. I'm quite enjoying my new life and new found freedom," Mr. Carson replied. "I'll be missing my soft bed and chair by the fire these next few nights."

"We'll have to take this opportunity to do some catching up. I've been thinking about retirement myself. Anna was training to be my replacement but now that will be put on hold for sometime," Mrs. Hughes said.

"I hope you're not planning on going too far afield when you do decide to retire," Mr. Carson said. "I would miss your visits terribly."

"I won't be going too far, Mr. Carson," Mrs. Hughes said with a small tired smile.

"You never know what positions may open up for you when you finally decide to make the move," Mr. Carson said with a mysterious smile before he took a sip of his tea.

-0-

His escape had been easier than he thought it was going to be. He had driven until it started to get dark and the car was almost out of petrol. His leg was fine to drive. Over the years he had let people think his disability was worse than it was. He did have trouble with too many stairs or balancing a tray but most of the time he could manage quite well as long as he didn't stand for too long. In prison he had been without a cane and managed just fine. When his leg got too tired to manage the gas pedal, he wedged his walking stick against it. It was a bit dicey but it wasn't like he was going to drive the entire way to Dover.

He pulled into a busy parking area at a train station part way to his destination and purchased a ticket to London. There weren't any police about. He had traveled southwest. It didn't matter how long it took to get out of the country it just mattered that he did. He removed his case from the boot of the car and waited for the train to pull in. He had thought he would have to ditch the car in the country but it was equally well concealed in the busy lot and it would take some time for the local constabulary to realize the car was abandoned.

He carefully chose an empty compartment. The train wasn't busy today. By the time he reached London he had changed his clothes. He carefully repacked the clothes he had been wearing. There was no sense in leaving any trace that he had been there. People thought disposing of clothing was a way to avoid capture. Prison had been full of the fools that thought that way. This wasn't the stuff of cheap novels and motion pictures. He had learned through his mistakes. Cold and calculating was the way to go. He would allow his beard to grow. In a week or so no one would recognize him.

He thought of his funds sitting securely in a bank. The only time he had stopped making cash transfers was during his incarceration for Vera's murder. Anna had come close to figuring out the truth, but a few well-placed lies and sweet kisses and she had easily been talked around. Disposing of Vera had been part passion and part exasperation with the woman's stupidity and greed. He and Vera hadn't seen eye to eye on anything after he had joined the army. She wanted the high life they had been leading but it had gotten too hot. The army was faceless and there were always opportunities if you kept your ears and eyes open.

He and John Balfour had hit it off right away. The two Johnnies, Balfour had called them. They had a good racket going. One or both of them would distract the driver's of a supply wagon while an accomplice took one or two cases of supplies. The other John had said a large theft would be looked into. A few cases falling off a cart here or there would never be missed. He had been right. Their black market connections had made them a pretty penny. John was smart he should have been an officer, not someone like Grantham who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was all uniforms and show. He didn't know the first thing about strategy. It was Grantham's inept planning that had gotten Balfour killed. He had been so busy saving Grantham's skin he hadn't been there to save his best friend and he had wound up with a bullet in his leg for his troubles.

Vera had seemed foolish when he returned to England. He had been drinking and not paying attention to what she was up to. She didn't understand the game of cat and mouse and taking only what would go unnoticed. She had gotten greedy and at the same time got a kick out of stealing. He had told her to leave the silver at the mess alone. It was counted on a regular basis. Any pilfering would be noticed right away. They had been fighting the day before the theft. She wanted more money and he had refused to give it to her. There was no sense drawing attention by spending beyond what would seem normal in his job. It was a game of waiting until they had enough to disappear into a new life where the money wouldn't be questioned. Vera couldn't wait. She'd stolen the silver from the mess and he'd been blamed.

He didn't know when he had stopped loving Vera or if he ever had. The early part of their marriage had been daring and fun. While he was in prison for theft she had demanded money. When he finally told her where the stash was she had spent every last penny on useless pursuits. She hadn't believed that was all there was and had demanded more and more. When he was released he had returned to find she had wasted every last cent of his hard earned cash on drinking and taking fancy vacations. He'd left her in disgust.

His in and out life at Downton had been interesting. He'd decided to rob Grantham when he tried to fire him for nothing other than taking a bullet and having a bad leg. Grantham had changed his mind at the last minute, but John's desire for revenge had been triggered. He'd set up the racket for pilfering hay and feed and steadily expanded it. Vera had showed up with her threats of blackmail. When she'd found out he was up to a new game, her demands for money had started all over again. She wasn't a master criminal. Her world was one of petty theft and blackmail. She couldn't think bigger. He'd wanted rid of her so he could set up house with Anna, Vera had wanted a bigger piece of the pie.

It had been too easy to fool people on the estate. When Matthew Crawley had gotten too close to discovering the thefts he'd tampered with his car. It had been meant more as a warning than anything else. When Matthew had died his revenge had been bittersweet. Matthew had been a nice man. The joy he had expected watching Grantham suffer the loss hadn't been as satisfying as he thought it would. It hadn't diminished the pain of loosing John Balfour one bit. When one of the chauffeurs had spotted him on the floor of the garage, he'd made the excuse that he'd fallen while retrieving something left in the car. Not a soul had questioned his story.

Here he was now, twenty-four hours after his flight from Downton about to enter the port of Calais.

"Welcome to France, Mr. Balfour," the customs official said. "Your destination please."

"I'm headed to the south coast for a touch of sun," he said. He altered his accent slightly to sound more cultured.

"Enjoy, your stay, Mr. Balfour," the official said as he stamped his passport.

"Thank you, I will."

The passport had been obtained under the name of his best friend now long dead. He'd had the document for years. All he had to do was go to the passport office every five years and have it renewed. He headed for the ticket window at the ferry dock to purchase a train ticket to Nice. A winter spent in warm weather amongst the wealthy whom he knew exactly how to rob without their ever realizing would be just the thing. He deserved a break after working for Grantham these last few years. Besides he wouldn't mind sitting back and reading a book on the beach. It would give him time to think and figure out how he could get Anna to join him. All he needed was time.


	13. Driving About

Chapter 13 – Driving About

It was two days before Dr. Clarkson decided Anna was well enough to be released from hospital.

"I've got to look for a new job, Doctor. I can't live on nothing," Anna said. She didn't feel she could go back to the Abbey. At the Abbey John was a criminal. He was the man responsible for taking Matthew Crawley's life. No one would understand her concern for his welfare. If only she could talk to him and hear his side of the story. She was sure John could straighten everything out. If only she knew where he was.

"You need rest, Mrs. Bates. You've had a shock. It is going to take time to recover and decide what you will do," Dr. Clarkson said.

"Listen to the Doctor, Anna," Mrs. Hughes said. "Why don't you go to visit your mother for a week or two. You can take some time to make some decisions. You can come back to the cottage and get your things whenever you like." She had been down to the hospital almost all day, everyday to see Anna. Everyone at the house was concerned for Anna. Mrs. Hughes was concerned as well. Anna didn't seem to accept her husband's crimes and if she did she wasn't fully registering them. Mrs. Hughes hadn't told anyone at the house that was the case. For now everyone thought of Anna as a victim as well. No one would understand the hope she was holding out of seeing John again.

"That's a very good suggestion, Mrs. Hughes," Dr. Clarkson said. "No one wants to see you anymore hurt than you already are Anna. I'm sure Lord and Lady Grantham would understand." This wasn't the first time he'd seen someone in grief not fully register the consequences of what was happening to or around them. The mind played strange tricks to protect itself. For Anna any realization would have to be a slow one, if it ever came at all.

"I'd like to go to the cottage, Mrs. Hughes," Anna said. "I don't want to burden my mother."

"I'm afraid I must insist you don't stay on your own," Dr. Clarkson said.

"Why don't I arrange for you to have the wages owing you? We can go by and pick up a few things and get you to your mother's," Mrs. Hughes said.

"Alright, Mrs. Hughes, but I really think I'm well enough to be on my own," Anna said stubbornly.

"I've brought the single horse cart so we can get about on our own," Mrs. Hughes said. "I'll just call Mr. Barrow to meet us at the cottage with your wages while you're getting dressed."

"Very well," Anna said with slight exasperation. She had been thinking about what she would do for money. She couldn't go back to the Abbey now. She had their savings account passbook back at the cottage. John's mother's house brought in a good steady rental that was paid directly to the account and there was money that had come back from Vera's accounts to John. He had put the cottage and the money in her name when he was in prison. Perhaps a lawyer could help her get the sale of the house in London underway and would know about what to do if John had any funds in his own name. They had always talked about a small hotel in Ireland maybe the time was right. _"I'll go to my mother's and visit a solicitor,"_ she decided while she was getting dressed.

Thomas Barrow was waiting for Mrs. Hughes and Anna outside the cottage when Mrs. Hughes pulled the horse to a stop. Thomas stepped near the horse and lifted an eyebrow in surprise. The nag stood there and ignored him. Mr. Branson had been right about the hair cream. He'd switched to something less smelly and the horse didn't try to bite. It was the first time it had ever happened to him.

"Hello, Anna. I hope you're feeling better," Thomas said with a syrupy smile.

"Mr. Barrow, I'm surprised to see you here," Anna replied.

"Why would you be surprised?" Thomas asked feeling a bit put out. "Mrs. Hughes asked me to bring your wages owing. I've included Mr. Bates' as well. I was authorized to include thirty pounds severance pay. Mr. Branson also sent word to take as long as you like. The cottage will remain here untouched until you've made your arrangements."

"Isn't that nice of him, since my husband and I were given this cottage for life," Anna snapped.

"Don't bite the messenger," Thomas said handing Anna the envelope. "Under the circumstances I think they are being more than fare."

"What circumstances are those?" Anna said. "Not giving my husband a chance to explain his actions? Everyone is innocent until proven guilty, even then the innocent are convicted."

Mrs. Hughes shook her head at Thomas who looked like he was about to say something. His eyes had narrowed and his face was slightly flushed with anger.

"Why don't you go in and pack a bag, Anna? I'll just have a word with Mr. Barrow," Mrs. Hughes said.

"I'll just be a few minutes," Anna said.

"She's still in shock," Mrs. Hughes said to Thomas once Anna was inside. "She's confused. She does know underneath it all you're just trying to help."

"I hadn't realized she was this bad," Thomas said letting out a breath with his anger. "We can't have her back at the main house, like this."

"I don't think we can have her back period," Mrs. Hughes said. "We'll discuss it when I return."

"Very good, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas replied. He headed back to the main house feeling somewhat disappointed with Anna's reaction, but then what had he expected. He had been trying to help and over six months wages was more than fare for a severance when by rights he should have canceled her husband's wages and any other house would have put her out on her ear to fend for herself. He had never cared for the woman. In some respects he wasn't sorry she and her husband would be gone from his daily existence, in others he couldn't feel glad it had happened like this. If they had moved on as other people did no one would have batted an eyelash after a soppy goodbye. As it was he had a distraught staff to deal with who were dealing with their own issues at having been betrayed by one of their own.

Mrs. Hughes went inside to find Anna cleaning the kitchen and bundling things out of the icebox to take along to her mother's.

"John won't like the kitchen dirty when he gets back," Anna said.

"Why don't you let me clean the counters while you get a few things together," Mrs. Hughes said.

"It will only take me a minute," Anna replied. The police made such a mess when they searched the house.

Mrs. Hughes looked around. Things didn't seem that out of place to her. There were a few books off the shelves and cupboard doors open but otherwise they had put things back in place. It wasn't too long and they had the food Anna wanted to take along loaded into the back of the cart along with Anna's cases. By the time Mrs. Hughes got Anna dropped off and was headed back to the village she was worn out. She felt terrible for Anna but dealing with her skewed view of her husband was difficult in the extreme.

-0-

"I see you got your car back," Tom said to his brother when he stopped by almost three weeks after Kieran's car had been stolen. Kieran was going over the books at the garage. Kieran put his pencil down when he saw his brother come in the door.

"The police found it abandoned in Nottingham. We took the boys down for a bit of a day trip to pick it up. There wasn't a thing wrong with it other than being out of petrol and covered in mud and fingerprint dust," Kieran said. "Push the papers off that chair and have a seat."

"You were lucky it wasn't sold off for parts," Tom commented once he was seated.

"They said it wasn't that type of crime. I guess your crook used it as a get away vehicle."

"He's not my crook or my anything," Tom corrected.

"Sorry brother, you know how people around here talk. Bates has become the Abbey Thief these days."

"Just what I need. That will set old Lady Grantham off if she ever hears it. The entire Bates topic is off limits these days," Tom said with a groan.

"Any news from the police? I won't repeat it," Kieran asked.

"They have charges ready for arson, larceny for the auto theft and perjury so far. He can't be tried again for the murder of Vera Bates but they can get him for lying his way out of prison."

"That's enough to keep him locked up for years."

"If they ever find him," Tom said with a sigh. "I could have done without the intrigue this year. I've got enough on my plate without it."

"On a pleasanter note it looks like Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes are keeping company. She's been down to visit him quite regularly this last while," Kieran commented.

"The two of them have been pussy footing around each other for years," Tom said. "If they don't hurry up they'll be getting betrothed on their death beds. The younger Mr. Mosley is working for Lord Grantham now. He's a bit of a buffoon but he's lived in the village his entire life. There is nothing he could be hiding."

"What's happened with Bates' wife?"

"She won't be coming back to work at the Abbey anytime soon. There are too many memories for her and it would just throw everything back in the family's faces if she were around. She hasn't cleaned out the cottage yet. I expect it will be a bit before she's ready. We won't see her out on her ear, but at the same time we can't keep her on."

"You look worn out," Kieran commented.

"I am. I'm ready for a vacation. We might go for a few days the next time Rose has a horse show, just to get away."

"Let's go for a pint," Kieran said snapping his books shut and stuffing them in the drawer.

"I thought you'd never ask," Tom replied tiredly.

-0-

"Mr. Branson's arranging a car for the staff," Mrs. Hughes told Mr. Carson when she saw him in the village a few days later. "I don't know what these younger people see in gadding about but they're all in a tizzy."

"It's all too much for me, Mrs. Hughes as you know," Mr. Carson replied. "I just can't keep with all the new innovations."

"Even Miss O'Brien has jumped on the band wagon and has the chauffeur giving her lessons in the town car."

"Wonders never cease," Mr. Carson replied. "I'd say there goes your new motor car now."

They looked over to see the chauffeur driving by in an inexpensive ABC four seat roadster that looked to be two or three years old with Tom Branson following along behind in his car with Miss Sybil in the passenger seat.

"I'll have my hands full stopping the staff from going joy riding," Mrs. Hughes said shaking her head. "It does look rather fun though and it will be nice to have it for errands when it's raining."

Mrs. Hughes arrived back at the Abbey to find most of the staff outside the servants' entrance standing around admiring the new car. Even Mrs. Patmore was outside sitting in the passenger seat while the houseboys and junior maids were taking turns sitting in the other seats.

"My goodness," Mrs. Hughes said with a small smile. "Who's getting the work done while you're all out here?" It was good to see everyone happy after the pale of gloom they had been under these last months.

"It's just a bit of fun for a few minutes, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas replied. He was grinning from ear to ear at the prospect of learning to drive the new car and not having to worry every second if he put a scratch on it the way he did with Mr. Branson's Bentley.

Jimmy who had feigned indifference at having a staff car was busy leaning over the driver's side pointing out the controls to everyone. Miss O'Brien was off to the side chatting to the chauffeur about her driving lessons and when she could drive the new car.

"Another ten minutes or so and I'll trust you'll get them back inside?" Mrs. Hughes asked Thomas.

"Certainly, Mrs. Hughes," he said before he went to examine the boot with one of the footmen.

Mrs. Hughes headed inside to hang up her hat and coat. _"Now what errands do I have tomorrow that I could have Jimmy drive me for? It does look like it might rain."_ she wondered with a smile of excitement on her face.


	14. Moving On

Chapter 14 – Moving On

Mr. Copeland the solicitor Anna had engaged to look into John's financial affairs pushed his glasses back up his nose after he read the notes from Anna's file. He pushed his papers around this way and that before he addressed Anna.

"Mrs. Bates. It will take time but I can have your husband's assets transferred under the circumstances. Does your husband have any other assets than those you have listed here," Mr. Copeland asked.

"I don't think so Mr. Copeland, but I haven't had a chance to go through everything at our cottage. What would happen if I discover any at a later date?" Anna questioned.

"Once the order is through the court, it would be a simple matter to have any remaining assets transferred if you discover any you are not currently aware of," Mr. Copeland replied. "May I ask what you are planning to do with your funds once everything is transferred and the sale of the house in London is completed?"

"I'm thinking of buying a small hotel," Anna replied. "It's always been a dream of ou…mine."

"Might I suggest you take a job working in a hotel while you waiting for the property to sell and the documents to go through the courts. It would give you practical experience in hotel management. I would hate to see you liquidate your assets and purchase a hotel only to loose everything from lack of hotel management experience, Mrs. Bates," Mr. Copeland said.

"I have a great deal of experience running a big house," Anna replied. "It can't be that much different."

"I would say there are considerable differences," Mr. Copeland said. "An estate house is run on a budget but does not have to generate income. A hotel must be managed so that expenses are balanced and a steady profit is maintained even in slow periods."

"I see your point, Mr. Copeland," Anna replied thoughtfully. "I'll think it over. I certainly don't fancy sitting twiddling my thumbs until everything is completed. Do you have any idea how long everything will take?"

"The sale of the house will depend on whether a buyer is found quickly. I suspect the other can be through the courts within the next four months or so. I do suggest Mrs. Bates that any funds held in joint, you transfer to an account under your name only. If any of the thefts are proven the victims would be within their rights to seek damages. If the funds are held exclusively in your name they would not be able to touch them."

"Thank you, Mr. Copeland. I'll take your advice. I'll be staying at the cottage for now. I'll let your office know if I have a change of address."

"An additional word of advice, Mrs. Bates. You don't have a Last Will and Testament. I suggest you have one drawn up as soon as possible. With the liquidation of your assets it would offer some protection and ensure your wishes are followed in the event the worst should happen."

"Thank you, Mr. Copeland. I'll think it over and let you know," Anna replied. She excited Mr. Copeland's office in Ripon. It was a five-mile walk to the cottage or an hour wait for the bus. She decided a walk was in order. It was the first of October but it hadn't rain in a few days. A walk in the fresh air would do her good.

Anna had been walking for about twenty minutes or so when a farm cart came along and the driver offered her a ride. Riding on the hay cart made her think of John and the many times they had done the same thing. She missed him terribly, but she had a purpose now. She would stop and pick up a paper. A job at a hotel might be just the thing to help pass the next few months. She had a great deal of experience as a maid and ladies maid. She had no real desire to work for another great house. A hotel would do nicely she thought, while she was waiting for everything to get settled.

-0-

John Bates walked the eight blocks to the beach from the boarding house he was lodging at. It was a nice warm day. The breeze off the Mediterranean was rustling the leaves of the palms. People were sitting in the sidewalk cafes drinking their morning coffee and reading their papers. He'd had to buy two new suits as he had packed clothing suited for an English winter not the warmth of the south French coast. He spotted a seat in his favorite coffee shop that overlooked the ocean and ordered a cup of tea and a roll. He got a slight chuckle at the grimace the French waitress made at his order, then turned his attention to the book he had been reading.

It was now coming towards the end of October. He was enjoying Nice. The pickings were easy here. There were more than enough wealthy men's clubs to stage the odd midnight raid. He'd taken the train to Cannes and scoped out one or two men's clubs and hotels that would be easy to get in and out of posing as a gentlemen. All in all he was having a good vacation, the only thing that would have made it better was Anna. He set down his book when he couldn't focus on it.

He was missing Anna a great deal. His feelings towards her were the one thing he had never planned on and couldn't think his way around. He loved her and wanted to be with her. There had to be a way to reach her. She had always forgiven him no matter what. The dream of opening a hotel had been the thing he was working towards for years. He'd almost had enough when he was in the army before Vera had squandered it all. He had pretty well enough put together when he was still at Downton. He'd been trying to think of a way to buy a hotel without Anna getting suspicious of where the funds had come from. They had his mother's house and the money as well. It would buy a nice modest place in Ireland easily. That is if Anna still wanted to live with him as his wife. He'd signed over the house and most of his cash when he was in prison. The ball really was in her court now. The question was how to contact her without raising suspicion.

"_The answer to the problem may have just walked into the café," _John thought as he spotted Nigel Barrington walk into the café and look around for a seat. The place was busy this morning. John waved at him to come and join him. Nigel Barrington was a columnist for a London newspaper staying at the same boarding house as John. He was in Nice covering a society wedding and would be heading back to England in another week. John had spoken to him on more than one occasion. There was nothing like an unwitting patsy to pass a message through and there was no reason for the police to suspect Nigel for a moment.

"Have a seat, Mr. Barrington," John said.

"Thank you, Mr. Balfour. There doesn't seem to be another seat in the house at the moment," Nigel said.

"You know how it is. Everyone wants to escape the dreary weather in the north at this time of year, especially the English north," John said.

"Oh yes, I quite agree. Another week and I'll be back to the rain of a London winter," Nigel commented grimacing.

"Tell me, do you ever have the occasion to travel north, around the York area?" John asked.

"Now and then. Why do you ask?" the waitress stopped by the table and took Nigel's order.

"I heard about the passing of an old friend. I've wanted to stop by and check in on his widow. I won't have the opportunity for some time. I'm not expecting to be back in England for at least another year and a half. I was wondering if you might stop by and check up on her? Perhaps take along a personal note?" John asked.

"You don't want to offer your condolences by post?" Nigel inquired.

"No, there is something too impersonal about it. I would feel much better if I knew someone was stopping by to see her in person. I know it would mean a great deal to her as it does to me," John cajoled. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel I could trust you."

"I could take a note along and stop by to see if there is anything she might need. I might not be in that area until closer to Christmas," Nigel replied.

"Oh, no rush. She has friends and family in the area. Sometimes a friendly face is the pick me up someone needs."

"Very well, give me the note and her address and I'll stop in."

"Delightful, I'll have it ready for you in the next day or so," John said with a smile.

-0-

"How are you making out with the replies to the advertisements for a new head house maid, Mrs. Hughes," Thomas asked. It had been over a month without a head housemaid and the household chores were piling up despite the new cleaning aids like the hoover. Chandeliers and all the rest had to be dusted by hand. There wasn't an easy way out of it.

"Slow at best," Mrs. Hughes said. "You would think with all the labor issues in the paper and people out of work, someone with good references and experience would apply. Service just isn't something people these days want to do. I have two picked out to set up interviews with. They're the best of the lot."

"Service was never my first choice, I must admit," Thomas replied. "The grass always looked greener elsewhere until I got a taste of it during and after the war. Now I'm quite happy to have my three squares on the table in front of me."

"These are different times. I saw Anna today. She is looking for a new job. I assured her we would both give her a good reference."

"Of course Mrs. Hughes," Thomas said. "She was a good worker here for many years despite the more recent issues."

-0-

Packing up John's closet wasn't something Anna was ready to face yet. She was staying back at the cottage after more than two weeks at her mothers. After all the years in service and not living at home, she hadn't known how much more she could take. Anna's mother had gone on and one about how evil Anna's husband was for running off and committing a host of crimes. Anna had tried to point out he hadn't actually been convicted of anything, but her mother hadn't wanted to hear it.

Anna was keeping busy sending out letters for jobs and already had her first reply. She would give it another week before she contacted them to see if there were any other replies for interviews. Packing up the cottage was bittersweet. Each item had a special memory attached to it. Anna found herself sitting leafing through books they had looked at together or reading and rereading the letters she had saved from John when he was in prison. Being charged with a crime was different than being convicted she told herself over and over. If he had done away with Vera she couldn't blame him. He would have felt he had no other option. She would have almost done the same thing. The woman was hateful and vindictive. He had professed his innocence and she believed him. She didn't blame John for running. She would have too rather than face the inside of a prison again. Wherever he was, he was safe from the hangman's rope.

One afternoon a few days after she had returned home her gaze settled on the photo album she had put together. She took it off the shelf and sat with it on her knee for a long time. She had thought she would cry when she opened it, but found herself smiling at each picture and the memory it held. She'd thought her opportunity for romance was long past until she had met John. There was a picture of them in Scotland. It had been such a good trip and she had enjoyed dancing at the Ghillies Ball so much with John standing on the sidelines smiling at her. There was another of them they had taken shortly after John's release from prison and few others taken with an inexpensive camera at different locations in the gardens at the Abbey.

She flipped the page to some old photographs of John's. Beside one of the old pictures was a small star. It was strange. She knew it hadn't been there when she put the pictures into the album. She carefully lifted the picture out of its tabs and turned it over. The name John Balfour was written across the back. Then she remembered John saying that it was his friend who had been killed in South Africa. They certainly had been alike. She put the photograph back, finished looking through the album and put it to the side. The album was one item she would take with her to her next job so she could keep it close.

By the end of a week the cottage was starting to look empty and unlived in, almost like their life together there was being swept out the door. The final job was to pack John's clothes. Anna took each item out of the closet and folded them slowly. She could smell the lingering scent of his aftershave. She carefully checked the pockets before she laid each piece away in a case. In the pocket of John's overcoat she found a blank deposit slip from a different bank than they had used for their joint account. She put it in her handbag and made a mental not to ask Mr. Copeland to check at that bank as well.

The day before her first interview a cart came to take her box of books and knickknacks as well as the case of John's clothes to her mother's for storage. Anna closed the door behind her leaving the key on the small kitchen table. After all her years at Downton she passed the Abbey without a backward glance. It wasn't her home anymore. Her home was where her heart was and it was no longer here.


	15. Crossing Lines

Chapter 15 – Crossing Lines

"Lord Grantham, there is a man here asking about the whereabouts of Anna Bates," Thomas Barrow said. "He says he has a missive for her from an old family friend."

"Show him in Mr. Barrow," Robert Crawley said. He was working at his desk in the library. It was early December and the weather had turned chilly. They hadn't heard a thing about Bates for months. The police had been following up on leads but the trail had gone cold.

Thomas returned with a well-dressed man following him.

"Mr. Nigel Barrington, milord," Thomas said before he waited by the door at attention.

"I'm Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham, Mr. Barrington. Mr. Barrow tells me you're looking for Anna Bates," Robert said.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Lord Grantham, but I inquired at the post office in the village when I found the cottage where Mrs. Bates formerly resided was empty. The post mistress suggested I try here," Mr. Barrington replied.

"May I inquire as to the nature of your business with Mrs. Anna Bates?" Robert inquired. "She was a long time employee of my estate and her husband was involved in…well a rather nasty business shall we say and leave it at that."

"I work for the London Times, Lord Grantham. I was recently on assignment in Nice where I met a man named John Balfour. He asked me to deliver a note to Mrs. Bates and stop by to check up on her. He said he was a long time family acquaintance and wouldn't be back in England for another year and a half."

"Balfour…Balfour, I know that name," Robert said thoughtfully. "Mr. Barrington, I know this may sound odd, but do you have any identification?"

"Yes, of course, Lord Grantham," Nigel replied. He reached into his billfold and produced his press identification and driver's permit. Robert took them looked them over quickly and handed them back.

"Mr. Barrington, Mr. Bates is wanted by the police. At the moment no lead is too small. Do you have time to wait while I contact the Detective Inspector taking care of the case?"

"Wanted by the police? Mr. Balfour led me to believe Mr. Bates was deceased."

"Deceased!" Robert said. "Now I know where I know that name from. Could you describe this Mr. Balfour?"

"Average height, dark hair, soft spoken and he walked with the aide of a stick."

"Mr. Barrington it is imperative you speak with the police."

"Lord Grantham, I assure you I am just an innocent bystander. I was only attempting to deliver a letter of condolences to what I assumed was a grieving widow."

"No, don't apologize. You'll be doing my house a great service by speaking to the police," Robert replied. "Now if you'll excuse me I'll contact the police station in Ripon. It's only a short drive. They should be able to have someone over shortly. If not my driver can take us to their offices."

"Very well, Lord Grantham. I'll help in any way I can if you're sure Mr. Balfour wasn't given misinformation as I was."

"I'm quite sure," Robert replied. "Barrow bring tea and sandwiches for Mr. Barrington."

"Very well, milord," Thomas replied before he turned to do Lord Grantham's bidding.

-0-

"If this John Balfour is John Bates, why can't you contact the French authorities and have him arrested?" Lord Grantham demanded after the Detective Inspector had arrived with the Sergeant working on the Bates' case and questioned Mr. Barrington. Robert had remembered John Balfour as dying under his command in South Africa. He remembered Bates being distraught at the man's death. He had lost a number of men in the battle. The experience was burned into his memory forever. It just wasn't something one ever forgot.

"It's not that simple, Lord Grantham. The French authorities will not get involved unless all or part of the crime was committed on French soil. Since the crimes Mr. Bates are wanted for were all committed on English soil the French won't touch him," the Detective Inspector said.

"It is amazing I stumbled across this story completely by accident," Mr. Barrington commented.

"You can't print a word of this," the Detective Inspector cautioned him. "It will alert John Bates that we know his assumed identity and push him further into hiding."

"An exclusive when he is arrested?" Nigel Barrington asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If it will buy your silence and cooperation, then yes," Robert snapped. He immediately thought better of his statement. "My apologies Mr. Barrington. We believe Mr. Bates was responsible for the death of my heir, Mr. Matthew Crawley. The Detective Inspector is still working to prove the murder charge."

"Mr. Bates is wanted for arson, larceny and perjury, Mr. Barrington," the Detective Inspector said to clarify things. "Additional charges for larceny and murder are still pending."

"Good gracious," Nigel said. "The man I meet in Nice was mild mannered, kind, quiet. One would never think he would be connected with anything so nefarious."

"His modus operandi," the Detective Inspector said.

"You weren't the only one he had fooled," Robert said hitting his hand on the mantel. "What can we do? I want to go to Nice and wring his neck with my bare hands."

"Which would only result in criminal charges against you, Lord Grantham," the Detective Inspector said. "We will have Mr. Barrington deliver the note to Mrs. Bates and watch for any correspondence between them. I'm still not convinced she was not an accessory to perjury."

"I highly doubt Anna Bates was an accessory to anything," Robert said with a sigh.

"May I point out you also trusted Mr. Bates," the Detective Inspector said.

"What about a private detective to pick up his trail in France," Robert asked.

"The department can't afford that luxury, but if you feel the need it would help if he ever sets foot on English soil again. The minute he sets foot anywhere under English rule he can be arrested and charged," the Detective Inspector replied.

"I can't sit by and do nothing. I'll have my attorney set something up," Robert stated.

"In the meantime, Mr. Barrington, we'll have you deliver the note to Mrs. Bates as was planned. Perhaps something in the note that doesn't make sense to us, will make sense to her and she will lead us to the proof we need to finally prove the case without a shadow of a doubt," the Detective Inspector said.

"Of course Detective Inspector. I'm quite happy to oblige," Nigel Barrington replied.

-0-

Anna had been surprised when a man she had never met before stopped by the Hotel in Scarborough shortly before Christmas and handed her a note from a Mr. Balfour and a bouquet of flowers. She had almost said she didn't know a Mr. Balfour until her memory had been jogged. Her heart had raced all day until she finally had a few minutes to herself to slip the note out of her pocket and tear it open. Her hand went to her chest and tears came to her eyes at the words on the page. John loved her and professed his innocence. He couldn't stand the thought of living without her or going back to prison that is why he had run. He regretted not taking her with him or arranging a place where they could meet. He'd included fifty pounds in the note, saying he had taken a position where he was and saving every last cent for the day they could be together and carry on with their dreams in Ireland.

She slipped the note back into her pocket, wiped her eyes and went about her duties. She couldn't keep the smile from her face. Life at the hotel was different than at a big house. The constant comings and goings meant rooms had to be stripped and cleaned almost daily instead of once a week. Her work tended towards packing and unpacking the ladies staying there and seeing to their hair. In the afternoon, Anna was required to work the front desk while the other staff went on their lunch break. That evening when she went to her small room in the attics, she got out a pen and stationary to carefully craft a response. She would have to be careful incase the police or authorities opened her outgoing mail.

_December 18, 1925_

_Scarborough, England_

_Dear Mr. Balfour: _

_I was very surprised to here from you after such a long pause in our association. Thank you so much for your condolences. I am pleased to report I am doing quite well on my own. I have moved to a new position in Scarborough at a small hotel. It is quite a transition after so long at a grand house._

_Once my husband's and my affairs are in order I am planning to go to Ireland to open a small establishment of my own. I sincerely hope if you ever have the occasion to travel to Ireland you will look me up so that we can renew our acquaintance. _

_Sincerely,_

_Anna May Bates_

"_It's perfect," _she thought as she reread the short note. An answer to condolences wouldn't draw the least attention if it was intercepted and she had let John know how to find her. She took the letter from him once she had written the address in Nice onto her note and hid it under a loose floorboard in her room. It nicely took care of the annoying squeak she received every morning when she got out of bed and his letter was safe from prying eyes.

-0-

Mrs. Hughes walked to Mr. Carson's cottage for tea, on her day off. Preparations for Christmas were well underway and keeping her busy training the new head housemaid in all the things that needed doing at the Abbey in preparation for the festivities. She and Mr. Carson had been getting together regularly twice a week this last while. They had been interested in each other for years, but the restrictions of a life in service had kept them apart. She didn't regret it. The people under her care and supervision had been like her children. Mr. Branson still turned to her when he was in need of a word of motherly advice or a friendly face. She was entrusted with the young girls and boys who came to work at the Abbey as their first posts. She kept a strict eye on them as if they were a flock of chicks that had just left the nest.

She tapped on the door and smiled as Mr. Carson opened the door to let her in.

"Welcome, Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson said.

"Haven't we known each other long enough for you to call me Elsie when we're on our own," Mrs. Hughes replied.

"Only if you call me Charles," Mrs. Carson said.

"Very well, then Charles. Thank you for inviting me for tea," she said with a small smile.

"You're most welcome, Mrs… Elsie. I hope you don't mind left overs from the shop. I saved a pair of meat pies and some cakes just for your visit today."

"I'm sure they'll be lovely," Mrs. Hughes said as she took her regular chair across from Mr. Carson. He had the small table already laid out beside her. He poured a cup of tea and handed it to her. He knew exactly how she liked it and didn't have to offer her the milk and sugar.

"Have you heard anything from Anna recently?" Mr. Carson asked.

"Aye, I have. She's working as a maid/ladies maid at a small upscale hotel in Scarborough. She's quite happy there. They have her on staff for the ladies who are traveling without their maids or need extra help at the last minute. I believe she's helping out on the front desk as well."

"No one's seen hide nor hair of Mr. Bates since he hightailed it out of here and left her high and dry," Mr. Carson said.

"You would expect no less when someone is on the run," Mrs. Hughes pointed out. "The new staff car at the Abbey is turning out to be quite popular. It's quite the time saver. Miss O'Brien has her driving permit now and took the car the other day to pick up a dress Lady Grantham had ordered in Ripon."

"Wonders never cease. You never know who is going to try something new," Mr. Carson replied. "I was wondering, Elsie if you might like to join me for the dance at the Odd Fellows on Saturday next?"

"Charles, are you asking me out?" Mrs. Hughes said a bit in shock that he would finally ask her after all these years.

"Indeed I am," Mr. Carson said. "I'm no longer in service and you're thinking of hanging up the towel in another year or so once you have a replacement trained. It's time we stepped things up a notch."

"Are you sure a dance at the Odd Fellows isn't beneath the dignity of a local shop owner?" Mrs. Hughes teased.

"Not if he has a beautiful woman on his arm," Mr. Carson replied. "The dance is for a good cause and it will do my heart good to take a few turns around the floor."

"Charles, what has gotten into you all of sudden," Mrs. Hughes said with a blush.

"Not all of a sudden, Mrs. Hughes. It's been years. Would you be interested in making things permanent when you're ready?"

"As long as you install an icebox in the kitchen."

"An icebox and a ring, for the lovely Mrs. Hughes," Mr. Carson quipped.

"And in the mean time a dance," Mrs. Hughes said.

Mr. Carson set down his cup and saucer and stood up. He drew her to her feet and danced her around the cottage sitting room.

"It's about time, Charles," she said.

"It's more than time," he replied with a smile.


	16. On the Trail

Chapter 16 – On the Trail

John was overjoyed when he received Anna's note. She was playing it smart incase anyone read the note. She was going to head to Ireland and make their dream of opening a small hotel in the town where his mother was born come true. Nice had been nice but it was time to move on before anyone noticed the thefts and put two and two together. He'd taken to a new game of checking into an upscale hotel for a night and then making his rounds. It had cut into his profits considerably. For now he would make his way to Monaco then back down the coast to Cannes and Saint-Tropez. By the end of the summer things should have cooled off enough in England so that he could head back.

His thoughts turned to Anna, as they always did. He was kicking himself for not asking her in his note to come and join him. She was so sweet and kind and had such faith in him. She would never understand how he made his way among the rich on the French Riviera. No, it was better to join her in Ireland, profess his innocence and settle into a life where no one would be the wiser. He would send her a brief note in a month or so, so as not to raise suspicions. For now he had to plan out his move to Monaco.

-0-

"Lord Grantham, Mr. Branson, good of you to come," the Detective Inspector from Ripon said as the men entered his office at the beginning of February. "I've asked you to come in today to let you know the lead provided by Mr. Barrington before Christmas has paid off. We have located the bank where Mr. Bates was transferring the funds from the feedlot to an account under his alias John Balfour. The amounts and dates match perfectly. We have now have the proof to charge him with two counts of larceny for the thefts associated with your estate and the theft of Mr. Kieran Branson's automobile. We also have enough proof to charge him in the murder of Mr. Matthew Crawley."

"It's about time," Robert replied visibly sagging. He leaned forward and put his hand on his face. Tom placed his hand on his father-in-law's shoulder for a minute while he composed himself. Robert straightened up after a moment and set his jaw. "I trust you gentlemen have received copies of the private detective reports from Murray's office?"

"Yes, we have. We suggest your private detective continue to follow John Bates until he makes his move to return to England to retrieve his stolen funds. He is obviously committing petty theft in France, which would put him in prison for only a short time. Since we do not have an extradition treaty with France he may slip through the cracks yet again," the Sergeant who was working on the case said. "Our best chance of capture is to let him get comfortable in his alias. When he returns to the country as John Balfour. We'll have him."

"The funds have been seized by the crown as evidence. Eventually the victims will receive compensation for their stolen property, your estate included," the Detective Inspector commented.

"I speak for Lord Grantham when I say we would like to see the smaller farms compensated first," Tom said. "The estate is larger and better equipped to deal with losses than some of the smaller holdings. We don't want to see any of the tenants or smaller holdings suffer any more than they already have at the hands of John Bates."

"It's a matter for the crown counsel to decide," the Detective Inspector replied. "We will certainly let them know your wishes with the dispersal of funds, gentlemen. It will be some time before that happens though."

"Thank you for the update, Detective Inspector, Sergeant," Lord Grantham said. "Please notify us the minute you have him."

"Of course, Lord Grantham," the Detective Inspector replied.

Lord Grantham and Tom headed out to the chauffeur driven car waiting for them outside the police station.

"You know, this is the best I've felt about things in a long time," Robert commented quietly. "He's exposed. Someday he will pay for what he did to Matthew. I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Life has a way of taking its own revenge," Tom commented. "We have other things to think about including a new chauffeur's cottage. I thought we'd stop by the architect's on the way back and pick out a design that appeals to you."

"Do you think we can afford it after everything?" Robert inquired.

"The work on the Abbey is caught up, we've stopped the losses from the thefts and Rose has the stables running without a loss. I'd say it's time to celebrate," Tom replied.

"By Jove, I think you're right," Robert said with a smile. "Now if we could just convince my mother it's time to move back to the Dower House things would be perfect."

"You think you can convince her?" Tom asked with a quirked eyebrow as they got into the car.

"I have as much chance of convincing her to move back out as you do convincing her the sun can actually set on the Empire," Robert said with a chuckle.

"It can't," Tom said with a grin.

"My point exactly," Robert replied.

-0-

"Mrs. Bates, nice to see you," Mr. Copeland Anna's solicitor said as she entered his office in mid February. "I'm afraid it will be a week or two before everything is through the courts yet."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Copeland. I had a message that you had an offer on the house in London," Anna said. She had developed a cold over Christmas that left her with a slight cough that kept niggling in her chest. She covered her mouth with her hanky. It really was annoying. She had tried cough medicine from the pharmacy but it only gave her very short relief.

"Yes, I have the papers in a file. If the offer is acceptable to you, you may sign them today. I should have the check ready for you by the end of March."

Anna nodded then reached for the papers to look over. She drew the blank deposit slip from her handbag.

"I found this among my husband's things. I thought perhaps this bank should be checked as well for an account," Anna said.

"I will look into it on your behalf," Mr. Copeland said taking the deposit slip and noting the bank in the file. "It may add another week or two to our business. Now back to the sale of the property."

"Yes, of course," Anna replied. She looked over the documents and signed them. There was no sense holding out for more money. She wanted things settled and done as soon as she could.

"Have you thought over who you would like to appoint as your beneficiary in the your Last Will and Testament, Mrs. Bates? You will have a decent packet of capital with the sale of your property. Your husband would not be able to claim any estate in England in the unlikely event of your early demise, as he is a wanted man. As your solicitor it is my duty to point out again, you should have a current Last Will and Testament."

"Yes, Mr. Copeland I realize that. I would still like it made out with my husband as the sole beneficiary. I am planning to move to Ireland as soon as things are settled," Anna said. The severity of the situation she was in was hitting home. John was out of the country and there was no way they could ever be together as long as she was in England. The sooner she got everything settled and left for Ireland the better.

"Mrs. Bates, have you been to a doctor to see about your cough? You've been through a great deal this last while. You wouldn't want it to develop into something worse."

"It's a remnant from a slight cold, Mr. Copeland. Thank you for your concern," Anna replied.

"My office will be in contact when your funds are collected and the checks are ready. I will have your Will ready at the same time," Mr. Copeland said. "My secretary will see you out."

"Thank you Mr. Copeland. I will look forward to hearing from you," Anna replied before she got up to leave.

-0-

John Bates looked over to see the same man sitting across the street from his Monaco lodgings in the café he had seen the morning before. He could have sworn he had seen the man in Nice as well. Either he was being followed or the man was here on legitimate business. He shook his head. The man was most likely on legitimate business. There were at least half a dozen men he had met casually in Nice that he had run into in Monaco as well. This was their lifestyle, traveling along the coast looking for wealthy single older women to connect up with who would pay their way for the season or an acquaintance with money they could sponge off of. He looked back out the window of his room and noticed the man was gone. Most likely another playboy on the make he told himself.

A few days later John noticed the same man at the café again. He headed downstairs and across the street. No time like the present to find out what the man was up to.

"Good morning," John said to the stranger when he entered the café.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," the man answered with a polite nod of his head.

"The café seems to be full, would you mind if I joined you?" John asked.

"But of course, be my guest. I was almost finished," the stranger said. He signaled the waiter. "Garcon."

"Please don't rush on my account," John said sitting back while he waited for the waiter to come by.

"Oh but I must, Monsieur, I am a seller of _chaussures. _How do you say in English? Shoes."

"A shoe salesman? I thought perhaps I had seen you in Nice, Mr.…?"

"Tremblay, Jasques Tremblay at your service. Oui, I am a salesman for a manufacturer of shoes. I travel back and forth along the coast regularly. It is quite possible you saw me in Nice, Monsieur…?

"Balfour, John Balfour. Pleased to make your acquaintance," John replied. Well, that would explain why he saw the man repeatedly, if he were traveling back and forth.

"Like wise, Monsieur Balfour. If you see me again in the café or at a restaurant please join me. I miss the company of others traveling as I do_._"

"Yes, I'll do that," John said. "I'm on my own myself. I came to France for the warm weather for my leg. It doesn't do well in the English winter."

"Ah yes. I understand. I must be off Monsieur, my clients await." Mr. Tremblay reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. "Ma carte, Monsieur, A bien tot."

"Good day," John said as the man left the table to pay the check. He sat back with a slight chuckle at his own paranoia. He had been worrying over a shoe salesman. This cloak and dagger routine was starting to wear thin. All he wanted at the moment, all he could really think about was being with Anna and the day he would join her in Ireland.

"Zut," Jacques Armand swore under his breath as he walked away from the café where he had met John Bates in person. His cover as a shoe salesman was one he had come up with years ago to cover his true identity. Bates was being careless and this was an easy job for the next few months. Now he would have to bring in an associate to watch Bates when he would supposedly be out of town. Usually he avoided contact with the subject he was following but at the same time letting Bates strike up a casual friendship with Jacques Tremblay aka Jacques Armand, Private Detective could have its advantages. Perhaps Bates would let slip his exact date of departure or where he was heading making his job all the more easy. Right now he needed to circle back to his lodgings and change to a different disguise. Bates biggest problem was he thought he was smarter than everyone else and it made him careless. In twenty minutes he would be back walking the sidewalk as a street cleaner and Bates would never know the difference.


	17. Justice

Chapter 17 – Justice

"_Bates is overconfident and it will be his undoing,"_ Jacques Armand thought as he got off the train in the company of one Mr. John Balfour in Cannes, France. It was late April. He had told Bates during one of their "accidental" meetings that he was headed this way and Bates had decided to accompany him rather than travel alone. Jacques bid goodbye to Bates at the train station and at the same time spotted his business partner in the crowd picking up Bates' trail. They had received word from the solicitor's office in England that had engaged them that Bates wife had been taken ill delaying her departure to Ireland. They had to lay low and watch the man every minute. When he received word he would either try to make a run to England or abandon the woman even more than he had. It could be the turning point in the case.

John made his way from the station to the boarding house that had been recommended to him by his last landlady. The weather was pleasant and warm and he had nothing better to do with his afternoon than to walk to his lodgings. The south of France was beautiful in the spring the only draw back was the street signs. They were all in French. _"You can't have everything,"_ he thought then stopped himself. _"Yes, you can. Soon Anna will be in Ireland. You'll make your way through England collect your savings you have well hidden and join her. You will have everything you ever dreamed of and then some."_

Once John had made it to his boarding house and unpacked his bag he decided it was time to write another note to Anna. He had chanced one from Monaco. Her reply had said she was expecting to have her affairs wrapped up at the end of March or the early part of April. Even if he missed her in Scarborough, the place where she was working would forward his note. Soon, very soon they would be together and it would all be worth it.

-0-

"Good gracious," Mrs. Hughes said into the telephone in the butler's pantry. "Thank you for calling Mrs. Smith. I'll let everyone here know." There was a pause while she listened to what the other woman was saying. "Please let me know the details. There are a few of us here who knew Anna for a number of years. Yes, it is a terrible thing. Her husband fooled us all." She paused. "Yes, take care. Good bye."

Mrs. Hughes put the telephone down slowly. Then sat down.

"What is it Mrs. Hughes, not bad news I hope?" Thomas inquired. He had returned to his office for the keys to the pantry silver cupboard.

"The worst kind of news," Mrs. Hughes replied. "That was Anna's mother. Anna collapsed at the hotel in Scarborough where she was working ten days ago. She had tuberculosis, quite a bad case. She never regained consciousness. She passed away yesterday."

"That is bad news," Thomas replied. "I never got on with Anna but I didn't wish her harm."

"Love is a strange thing," Mrs. Hughes said sadly. "The last note I had from her just after Christmas she was still pleading John Bates' innocence."

"He would have seen me or any one of a number of other men hang for his crimes," Thomas said. "I have no sympathy for the man or the fact Anna couldn't admit what he was."

"It doesn't do well to speak ill of the dead," Mrs. Hughes reminded him. "The stress of it all must have worn the poor dear out till she couldn't fight anymore. I'll tell her ladyship. There may be a few who want to attend the funeral. Her mother is going to ring back and let me know when it is."

"Very well, Mrs. Hughes. I'll drive those of us who'll be going in the staff car. Let me know when."

"I thought you said you had no sympathy," Mrs. Hughes said.

"I didn't have sympathy for Anna's attitude, Mrs. Bates, but I can have sympathy for a person who was hurt so badly they couldn't see the truth. John Bates didn't just betray the house, his wife and every person under this roof. He betrayed himself. He had the one thing I may never have in my entire life and that is someone to love him and share his life and he threw it away."

"Why Mr. Barrow, I never knew you were so profound," Mrs. Hughes said slightly taken aback.

"I'm just stating what a blind man could see," Thomas replied. "Now I had best get back to it."

-0-

John Bates was leaning back in the shade enjoying a glass of lemonade when his landlady stopped at the small table in front of the boarding house and handed him a thick letter. The envelope was from the hotel where Anna was working. He opened the letter in puzzlement. The note he had sent was included inside along with a brief note from the hotel manager. Anna, his beloved Anna had collapsed at work and been taken to hospital where she died less than two weeks later from galloping consumption. John's hands dropped to the table in shock. _"It couldn't be. There had to be some mistake. Everything he had ever wanted was going to be his." _He crushed the letter in his hands as he began to cry. _"What was it all for? Nothing meant anything without her." _ The beauty of the French Riviera, the easy life he was leading, it meant nothing if Anna wasn't a part of the world. He knew what he would do. He would get the money from his account and go to Ireland. He would open the hotel they had dreamed of. It couldn't be true. It was a ruse. She would find him and they would be together.

John climbed the stairs to his room and packed his bags. He quickly went downstairs and paid the landlady what was owed. No sense skipping out now and alerting the gendarme over a few francs. He was at the train station with a ticket to Calais within the hour.

Jacques Armand had been in his disguise as a street cleaner when he saw Bates take off like a mad man out of the door of the boarding house with his bags. He barely had time to push his trashcan and broom into an alley before he lost sight of Bates. For a man who walked with a stick and pronounced limp he was certainly making good time. Jacques followed Bates to the train station and heard him purchase a ticket for Calais. He had just enough time to send a telegram and purchase his own ticket before the train pulled in. Luckily he had pushed a considerable amount of cash into his pocket when he dawned his disguise or he would have lost Bates in his haste.

There was a significant stop in Paris where Jacques' business partner got on the train as well. Once the train had pulled out and Jacques was sure Bates was not getting off the train he made it to another car to talk to his partner. The client in London had been alerted and the English authorities. All that was left was to tail Bates until his arrest. Jacques had left Cannes so quickly he hadn't had a chance to grab his passport. His business partner would take the ferry and keep Bates under surveillance until he was captured.

All John could think about was getting to England, retrieving his money and making his way to Ireland. Anna would meet him. She had promised she would. This was a trick, it had to be, he told himself over and over. He was in such a rush to get to his precious funds and make his way to Ireland he didn't bother with a layover in Calais. He got on the first ferry to England. His cover as John Balfour was a good one. No one would recognize him and he would be able to walk right through customs, he told himself.

John lined up with the other disembarking passengers going through customs. He had his passport in hand with his assumed name, which he handed to the customs official.

"Mr. John Balfour?" the man asked.

"Yes, that's right," John replied. He hadn't noticed the men step behind him or the man approach through crowd in front of him.

"John Bates, you are under arrest for larceny, arson, murder and perjury," the Detective Inspector who had worked the case all these months said.

"You must be mistaken. I'm not John Bates," John replied. "My name is Balfour."

"John Balfour died on a battle field in South Africa in 1902, Mr. Bates. Your game is over Mastermind," the Detective Inspector said.

"My wife, my money," John stammered in shock.

"All gone, Mr. Bates. Your wife passed away three weeks ago. As the sole beneficiary of her estate, it and the funds held under your assumed identity have been confiscated by the crown and will be paid out as compensation to your victims," the Detective Inspector said as they lead John away towards the waiting police car.

Over the days awaiting his trial John convinced himself, Lord Grantham and the rest of the Crawley clan would come to his trial for a final look at the man who had taken Matthew Crawley's life. He would stand proud. It would be his final revenge for them separating him from Anna. On the day he was lead into the courtroom for his trial he was in for a surprise. The press gallery was full but there was not a sign of Lord Grantham or anyone from the Abbey. He was no one, to anyone. He would be a few lines of amusement over a morning cup of tea while someone read their papers, forgotten as quickly as they moved on to the next piece of news or new sensation. His head dropped and his heart broke in that instant. There was nothing left. He had lost Anna the moment he had set up the theft ring. "Anna," he said aloud in the prisoner's box. "I want to be with Anna."

The judge stopped the proceedings and asked him to repeat what he had just said but John remained silent. He never took a sip of water or bite of food from that moment forward. There was no need to wait for the executioner. John Bates died, alone in his cell with his wife's name on his lips.

_the end _

So I hope you all enjoyed a different version of the John/Anna story and had some fun with it. I see a couple S4 spoilers are out. Edith continues with Gregson, which we all knew and Mary gets a new love interest. I am hoping against hope it is not Tom. I just can't see Mary who likes to spend money and is always worried about how things look and keeping up appearances with Tom, Mr. Scandal himself. I am really hoping Kieran and Evelyn Napier come back. I like some of the funny side characters. Just a comment on the name Tremblay it is the french equivalent of Smith in French Canada and the most common surname in the province of Quebec. In France it originally meant "from Tremblay" much like John the Smith in old English became John Smith in modern English. There are probably twenty pages of Tremblay in the Montreal phone directory. I believe there was a Jacques Tremblay in the NHL back in the 1940's.


End file.
